Instances
by Misaia
Summary: Even when you have millennia to spend together, sometimes all it takes is a moment to fall in love all over again. Fun-sized glimpses into Thor and Loki's domestic life. Updated frequently.
1. Redamancy

Written to Procession of Spirits: Spirited Away OST, crosspost from AO3

* * *

Thor finds Loki beautiful all the time. Of course, he is different in many beautiful ways, and Thor delights in finding grace in the curve of Loki's smile, the bend of his waist, the arch of his eyebrows as he stares at Thor from across the room, a book lying forgotten on his lap and Modi cradled in the other arm.

Beautiful underneath him, writhing and gasping and crying out for more and more and more. Unsatiable.

Beautiful on top of him, his knees digging into the mattress on either side of Thor's waist, his skin warm and slippery with sweat where Thor held him by the hips, his head tossed back and the graceful lines of his throat bobbing as he swallowed back moans and whimpers so that Modi wouldn't wake in the next room.

Beautiful as he sits across from Thor at the breakfast table, bags under his eyes from a sleepless night of tending to the children in the nursery (Modi refused to go to sleep and stay asleep unless someone was there to rock him into dreams, and Jörmungandr wasn't exactly the best of playmates).

But Thor thinks the most beautiful Loki has ever been is the moment in which he looks down at Thor on bended knee, a sheen of tears swimming in his green eyes, twin dimples appearing in the corners of his smiling mouth as he holds out his hand for Thor to slip the slender silver ring on, and says "Yes."


	2. Gökotta

Written to: Lisztomania - Phoenix, crosspost from AO3.

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_**Gökotta: **Dawn picnic to hear the first birdsong; the act of rising in the early morning to watch the birds or to go outside to appreciate nature._

It's well known that Loki isn't a morning person; unfortunately for him, Thor and Modi both take great delight in waking up at the very crack of dawn, something that Loki will never understand.

The morning (well, it's more still night, really, the sun hasn't even broken over the horizon and the sky is all grey still) that Thor takes him by the hand and drags him out of the comfort of their warm bed, Loki sleepily tries to bat him away, but Thor's grip is too firm. When Loki tries to ground his heels into the soft rug, tries to pull away, Thor just cheerfully smiles at him, golden, and swings him up into his arms, cradling him like he does Modi. Modi, for his part, is carefully ensconced in one of those baby carrier things, and still dozing, his cheek smushed up against Thor's chest and his small tufts of hair wild, uncombed.

Loki curls into himself, into the protective shelter of Thor's arms as the other god gracelessly kicks open the door and the early morning chill drapes over him with cold and wet and the smell of dew. He lets Thor cover him and Modi with his red cape, cradles Modi close against his chest, and listens to Thor's footsteps crunching over slightly frosty grass with closed eyes.

"Loki, fairest," Thor says after a few minutes of walking, in which Loki is well on the way to being lulled into sleep again and Modi has drooled quite a copious amount all over Thor's chest, "open your eyes."

Loki pouts, but follows Thor's wishes, turns his head away from the crook of Thor's shoulder. He watches the sky light up, streaks of orange and pink and gold reaching up from the horizon to paint the underbellies of the clouds with fire. Watches the sun drag itself up over the distant mountain ranges, its light racing across the ground.

He watches the sunrise paint Thor's face with gold, and thinks that perhaps he could try to be a morning person more often, too.


	3. Sirimiri

Written to: Never Let Me Go - Florence and the Machine, crosspost from AO3.

* * *

_**Sirimiri:** __A light rain, a fine drizzle._

Loki hums a little tune to himself as he rocks Modi in one arm, the other hand spread out among the pages of a book. Outside the nursery window, a storm rages, muted by the thick glass and by Loki's seidr, muffling the claps of thunder for Modi's little ears. Rain beats down against the window, drawing little watery lines of shadow across Modi's cheeks, and he reaches out tiny fingers to try and catch the little grey drops running across his skin.

Thor is training for future battles, calling the thunder and the lightning and the wind to swirl around him and do his bidding. Loki has seen his brother (his fiancé, now, he supposes, looking at the soft silver glint on his finger) gripping Mjolnir firmly, raising it above his head to send it smashing down on the head of some unlucky opponent, has admired his strength and force from a safe distance. Thor, for all his roughness, has a grace that Loki could never hope to possess: rough and raw and polished all at once, the sharp edges of diamonds, beautiful in its ferocity.

The balcony door bursts open with a loud bang, and Modi squeals in surprise. Loki, who has had millennia to get used to Thor's abrupt, loud entrances, quickly closes his book and cuddles Modi to his chest to calm the baby's squalling before turning to look at Thor.

Thor is framed in a white flash of lightning, his hair dripping, Mjolnir dangling loosely in one hand. The clap of thunder follows not even a few seconds later, and, unmuffled by the thick wood and glass of the balcony door, is much louder. Modi begins to wail, and Jörmungandr, rudely woken from his afternoon nap, slithers down from his pillow and up Loki's body, twining himself around his mother's shoulders to stare down at the little pink thing fussing in its bundle of blankets.

Thor crosses the room quickly, gently setting Mjolnir down on the floor, wrapping Loki in a tender embrace from behind. Loki feels the rain soaking into his robes, but allows Thor to hug him close and peer over his shoulder at squalling bundle.

"What is it, beloved?" Thor asks gently, reaching down to stroke a broad thumb across Modi's tear-stained cheek. Modi grabs at the thumb and clings tightly, snuffling. "Why must you despair?"

Loki smiles quietly and bounces Modi up and down in his arms. "He is scared of the storm, I think. It is very loud, and he is not used to such noises. They are big and frightening."

Outside, the storm abates, the grey clouds growing lighter as Thor commands, until all that is left is the soft pattering of a light drizzle on the balcony stones outside.

Modi looks up at Loki, his eyes huge and blue and wet, still clinging to Thor's thumb with a tight grip. His cries dissolve into tiny hiccups, and Loki smiles down at his son reassuringly.

Jörmungandr flicks out a tiny forked tongue to lick at the tear tracks on Modi's cheeks, makes a face. They are salty, and not at all to his liking. Modi giggles hesitantly, tiny pockets of brightness in the air, and Jory looks at the fat pink thing in distaste and slithers away to a cushion, settling in for another nap.


	4. Arcadian

Written to: Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol, crosspost from AO3.

* * *

_**Arcadian**:Idyllically innocent; simple and untroubled by fear or worry._

Thor really doesn't understand the Midgardian fascination with wars and petty quarrels about equally as trivial things. Their lifetimes are so short to him, just a blink of an eye, and he is incredibly puzzled as to why they would throw the gift of life away so easily.

He can understand what the Man of Iron says, about the metal tang of blood in your nose and red in your eyes, of the cries of victory ringing so deeply in your ears that you can't hear anything else. He can understand the glory of war, of conquest.

What Thor doesn't understand is the fear, the intolerance that drives these battles. Differences in their beliefs, differences in the colours of their skin, even the tiniest contrast is enough to set them afire.

The Lady Natasha told him that Midgardians were afraid of things they didn't understand, afraid of the unknowns in the night, around the corner, in their closets. That even though many advocated change, progress towards a better world, there were equally as many who feared it and dug their heels in to try to make time stand still.

"It is a better world now than it was, I guess," she'd said, looking out over the New York skyline as they stood on the tower balcony. The lights of the skyscrapers played across her face, danced across the plane of her cheeks, and not for the first time, Thor was struck by how fragile she was. How short-lived they all were by comparison.

"But humans, we're not like you. We only have a few decades to live, and we all want to spend that time happy in our ideal world. The problem is, our ideal world never matches up to anyone else's. We spend all our life chasing perfection, and then when it's time for us to die, we look back and realise that, yeah, sure, it might not have been perfect, but it was pretty damn good."

Thor thinks about this for a long time, long after Natasha takes her leave to go to bed, and he watches the red and gold lines of traffic speed away underneath his feet.

When he returns to Asgard, Loki is already curled up on his side in their bed, fast asleep. Loki had been feeling a bit under the weather, and his body has automatically redirected his energies towards healing himself, causing his glamour to fade.

Thor clambers onto the bed, carefully, so as not to disturb his sleeping brother, and takes one of Loki's hands in his. Loki's chilled blue fingers lie elegant against his own, and Thor runs his thumb across the deep red-purple etchings across Loki's skin.

He lies down fully, drawing Loki close to him under the fur blankets. His brother's face turns towards him, the soft candlelight dancing across his indigo lips. Loki's brow, for once, is not furrowed in exasperation or irritation, and Thor clutches his brother's hand and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Thor slips quietly into dreams, Loki's breath cool against his throat.


	5. Hygge

Written to Eyes as Candles - Passion Pit, crosspost from AO3.

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_**Hygge: **A complete absence of anything annoying or emotionally overwhelming; taking pleasure from the presence of gentle, soothing things._

"Your daddy is really stupid, do you know that?" Loki asks Modi one afternoon, bouncing the baby up and down his lap. Modi smiles up at him toothlessly, blows a little spit bubble with tiny lips.

_Loki had overheard Thor talking to Sif just a few moments earlier as they walked through the halls of the castle after a particularly intense training session. _

_"You must be so glad the baby looks like you," Sif had commented. _

_"Aye," Thor commented offhandedly, twirling Mjolnir around carelessly and not catching sight of Loki in the shadows by the nursery door, Jörmungandr coiled around his shoulders. "Quite glad indeed." _

_Loki hadn't stayed to hear any more and slipped back through the crack in the nursery door, closing it quietly behind him. As such, he does not hear what follows, when Thor continues with, "It would not matter what he looked like, I would love him all the same. He is mine and Loki's. He could not possibly be less than wonderful."_

* * *

"You don't mind it, do you?" Loki asks Modi, who looks up at him with huge blue eyes. "You'd still be happy even if you had my skin, wouldn't you, sweetling?" Loki allows his glamour to fade a touch, letting the deep blue show through, and Modi stares curiously at him before stuffing a tiny fist into his mouth and smiling gummily at Loki through a mouth full of fingers. Loki cannot help but smile back and lean forward to press a kiss to Modi's wispy curls of blonde hair.

When he pulls away, Modi pulls his fingers out of his mouth, wipes them unceremoniously on Loki's robe and then squeezes his eyes shut, furrowing his little brow in concentration. Loki watches in utter amazement as blue streaks of colour shoot across his son's skin, spreading across his face, his chubby arms. The blue is not quite as pronounced as Loki's, more of a subtle undertone, just the shadings of it, dusting his rosy cheeks a soft violet and colouring the whites of his eyes with a gentle red.

Loki is so entranced by this, catching Modi's baby blue fingers in his own navy ones, that he does not hear the nursery door opening, does not hear nor feel Thor's deep footsteps across the nursery carpet.

"Loki, love," Thor's voice calls out softly, and Loki jumps in surprise, turning. Upon seeing Thor, Loki pulls Modi closer to himself, trying in vain to hide the baby's skin.

Thor tilts his head, looks down at the two of them. Modi, catching a glimpse of Thor, smiles up at him in delight and holds out his hands, opening and closing like starfish, wanting Thor to hold him.

Thor takes him from Loki's slack arms, examines the gentle red etchings dusting across Modi's plump cheeks, and, much to Loki's vast surprise, returns Modi's smile with a broad grin of his own.

"Oh, Modi, look at you," Thor says, and Modi squeals in laughter as Thor tickles him with his beard. "You look like your mama, how beautiful! I am so glad."

Loki watches Modi pat bluish fingers against Thor's face, and breathes out a soft sigh of relief, a smile blossoming across his amethyst lips.


	6. Oscitancy

Written to: The Tip of the Iceberg - Owl City, crosspost from AO3

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_**Oscitancy: **yawning, being drowsy or inattentive._

"Modi, darling, you can't go to sleep yet," Thor says gently, prodding Modi's chubby cheek with his thumb as he cradles Modi in the other arm. "It is not time for bed." Modi purses his tiny lips up at Thor in distaste, his frown exactly like Loki's, and Thor cannot help but smile down at the little being in his arms.

It had been a parenting tip from one of the books the Man of Iron and the Lady Pepper had given to Thor when he'd told them of how Modi kept waking up throughout the night and disrupting his and Loki's sleep. The book recommended keeping the baby up during the day and not allowing it to take any naps so that it would be more likely to sleep during the night.

It had positively broken Thor's heart when he'd had to jiggle Modi up and down in his arms as the baby began to drift off in the midmorning hours after suckling down a bottle of formula. And the time after that, at noon, when Modi's eyelids had fluttered and his fingers had splayed lax against Thor's chest. And the time after that too, in mid afternoon, when Modi had started to cry and beat his little fists against Thor's arm in between yawns that stretched his mouth into perfect ovals.

Loki comes into the nursery, and Thor draws him onto his lap and allows him to cradle Modi in his arms. Loki unbuttons his robe and lifts out a breast (no longer quite as swollen, nor as painful, but Thor preferred to believe otherwise) for Modi to suck. The baby's fingers curl tightly into the soft fabric of Loki's robe as Modi sleepily lets his mouth fall open and sucks halfheartedly.

Thor watches, his chin set on Loki's shoulder, as Modi's cheeks puff in and out with his swallows. Modi rolls away after a few gulps, his tiny lips shiny with milk in the soft yellow light of the nursery, and Loki gently shifts him to his shoulder and pats his back reassuringly to burp him.

After a tiny belch that sounds more like a hiccup but still has Thor grinning all the same, Loki gently cradles Modi against his shoulder and rubs his back soothingly. From where his head rests in the hollow of Loki's neck, Modi glowers at Thor, a diluted version of his mother's more concentrated glare; the full effect is quite lost, with Modi's eyelids constantly slipping down.

"It's alright now, Modi, you can sleep now," Thor murmurs gently. "You can go to bed now, you've been so tired all day, haven't you? And you're going to sleep all through the night, yes you are, my sleepy baby..."

Modi drifts off, and after a few moments, Loki gently disentangles himself from Thor's embrace and walks over to the cradle to set Modi down. Thor follows, watches as Loki tucks in the soft quilts around Modi's tiny body before bending down to lay a soft kiss on Modi's brow.

That night, when the moon is still full and high in the sky and Loki lies flush and trembling beside him in their bed, Thor braces himself for the cries and whimpers that usually arise from the nursery at around this time. He waits with bated breath, and when there is nothing but silence and the soft, hot puffs of Loki's post-orgasm gasps, Thor finally, finally allows himself to relax.


	7. Accismus

Written to: Life in Technicolor ii - Coldplay, crosspost from AO3

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_**Accismus: **Feigning disinterest in something while actually desiring it. _

"Will your friends be coming?" Loki wants to know, sitting on the nursery and playing peek-a-boo with Modi, who was lying on the soft nursery carpet and waving his little hands about in the air, squealing with laughter whenever Loki would take his hands away from his face.

"I would like them to, if that would be acceptable with you," Thor says from his perch in the armchair, where he sat perusing some Midgardian wedding catalogues that the Lady Pepper had given him, brochures she had already looked through for her upcoming wedding with Anthony. "I know you have had...some disagreements with them in the past."

Loki laughs, and Modi echoes him a moment later, giggling brightly. "Some disagreements? That is quite an understatement."

Jörmungandr slithers over from the block of ice he was teething at to look at his mother and the fat pink thing playing. Clearly the baby was not discriminating about entertainment; Jory had seen it staring with unabashed delight at the little mobile of multicoloured butterflies hanging above its cradle. The baby serpent really couldn't understand it, and had even tried to give the baby one of its stuffed rat plushies so that they could play hunters together, but the fat pink thing had looked at it with distaste and gone back to staring at the butterflies. Also, the baby couldn't move, so Jory supposed it was all for the better, the game might have been quite boring.

Thor flips through a few glossy pages of the magazine, looking at the happy couples smiling and holding hands, wreathed in white flowers. He didn't suppose Loki would want to wear a Midgardian wedding dress (those things looked rather constricting, and, if Thor was being honest, rather itchy), and he wondered if he would consent to wearing the dove grey linen robes that were customary for Asgardian wedding ceremonies. Grey didn't suit Loki's skin tone very well, as his brother had insisted many times, it made him look sallow and pale and malnourished and he was clearly none of those things.

"What about the invitations?" Thor asks, looking at the cream-coloured envelopes with silvery vines trailing across the thick paper. "According to this book, they ought to be themed somehow."

"I don't mind," Loki says cheerfully, lying down on the floor next to Modi and blowing little raspberries onto his stomach. Modi was squealing with laughter and flailing around. Thor smiles down at them briefly before going back to the book. He had told the other Avengers that the wedding was to be held in a few months' time, and so far, he and Loki had absolutely nothing planned for it.

Thor makes a note in the book by the invitation section to inquire whether golden invitations with crimson inlay would be too extravagant or not extravagant enough.

"What should the wedding flowers be?" Thor asks Loki, who doesn't appear to be listening. "Roses? Lilies?"

"You decide," Loki tells him, trying to disentangle the firm grip Modi has on his hair. "I am neither here nor there on the matter."

Thor furrows his brow, looks down at the glossy pages of the catalogue, and pencils in copious notes here and there amongst the fine print.

* * *

Later that night, when Thor is deep in dreams, his arms wrapped tightly around Loki's waist, Loki summons the wedding catalogues to his side of the bed and opens them quietly, flipping through the sleek pages and looking at the notes Thor had made.

He wrinkles his nose in distaste at some of the comments ("Red and gold invitations?" he mutters under his breath, "how gaudy." Thor mutters something in his sleep beside him and rubs his beard against Loki's shoulder blade.) and smiles at others (By the cake section, Thor has written "More than one cake, Loki loves cake. Laufey too, unfortunately").

Loki flips back to the beginning of the catalogue, a big grin on his face, takes up a pencil and begins to make edits with delight.


	8. Hon'ne

Written to Lakehouse - Of Monsters and Men, crosspost from AO3.

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_**Hon'ne: **What a person truly believes; the behaviour and opinions which are often kept hidden and only displayed with one's closest confidants._

"Farbauti," Laufey says to his wife as he holds the envelope in his hand, the thick cream-coloured stock cool in his blue fingers. "It is a letter for us." It was addressed to the whole royal court of Jotunheimr, but Helblindi didn't concern himself with the Nine Realms Postal Service, preferring to get his mail and information from other sources, and Byleistr, of course, had been far too infatuated with the Thor clone Loki had so kindly sent over to bother with such trivial things as mail.

Farbauti holds out her slender hand, and Laufey deposits the envelope into it, looking at her with anticipation. It wasn't often that they got mail in Jotunheimr; usually the couriers got lost in the icy wilderness, or got mauled by bears or something of the like. It must have been a very important letter indeed, for it to actually reach the palace.

She tears open the envelope gracefully, pulls out the cream-coloured invitation inlaid with silvery red and green vines. She smiles; the colours remind her of a Midgardian holiday she had coerced Laufey into going down to the realm for once.

"We are delighted to invite you to attend the wedding of Loki Laufeyson and Thor Odinson," the card read in elegant script that Farbauti was sure was Loki's hand. She smiles in remembrance, how she had taught him to write his first words, how he'd stuck his little purple tongue out as he concentrated hard and held the quill in unsteady fingers as he made his a's and b's big and curving across the page and smiled up at her afterwards.

"What is it?" Laufey asks, looking at her curiously.

"It is a wedding invitation," she replies, holding out the card for him to see. "For Loki and the prince Thor."

Laufey furrows his brow in irritation at the mention of Thor's name, and Farbauti has a stifle a giggle. She pats the throne beside her, beckoning Laufey to sit.

"Is he really that bad?" she asks, smiling. "Do you really despise him so?"

Laufey looks at the invitation murderously, as if it would suddenly sprout fangs and bite him by the slightest provocation. "Yes," he spits out venomously. "I do hate him."

Farbauti smiles quietly, watches Laufey as his red eyes roam over the cursive and the portrait at the bottom of the two of them, heads tilted towards each other, Modi squished in between them; Farbauti watches her husband's gaze soften as he looks at the portrait, watches the softening of his grim mouth at the corners.

After a few moments, Laufey sighs and closes the card, handing it back to Farbauti. "He is happy," Laufey admits grudgingly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "Loki is happy."

"Yes," Farbauti says softly, slotting the card back into the envelope and preparing a mental list of wedding gifts they could give to their youngest. "The prince Thor does appear to make him very happy, uncouth though he may be."

More silence fell across the throne room, and Farbauti wonders what her son would like. She knows he is fascinated with Midgardian technology, and furrows her brow in concentration as she thinks of all the devices that she could possibly procure for him. A toaster? Microwave? Those sounded elegant and sophisticated, a true sign of modernity and humanity's greatest achievements, Farbauti thinks.

Laufey clears his throat, interrupting her from her reverie. "I have...been a little harsh towards the prince, in the past," he says, not looking at her, but she can see the telltale flush of embarrassment creeping across his face. "He is...rather a good person. I think he will make a good match, a good father..." Laufey frowns, as though it pains him to say this. "A good king."

Farbauti smiles and reaches out, clutches her husband's hand in her own. He returns her smile, a bit hesitantly, stroking his thumb over hers softly.

"Would you mind writing the acceptance?" Laufey asks after a few moments. "My penmanship is unwieldy, as you have pointed out many times over the centuries."

Farbauti smiles, leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Of course."


	9. Resistentialism

Written to Stay Young, Go Dancing - Death Cab for Cutie, crosspost from AO3

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_**Resistentialism: **when inanimate objects seem to demonstrate spiteful or hostile behaviour towards humans. _

"Loki, darling, would you like some help?" Thor says, trying to stifle his laughter as Loki struggles with the small pegs and screws of the bookcase he was attempting to assemble. Loki had been absolutely determined that Modi be given the gift of literature and written words from the earliest age possible, and had acquired a large amount of children's books from all across the nine realms (although Thor would have to look over the items Loki had gotten from Svartalfheim, children's books from that particular realm were notorious for causing nightmares and Thor would not have been surprised if Malekith had had a major hand in writing all of them).

Upon asking his fellow Avengers for book recommendations for Modi, Thor had gotten some Midgardian books for the child as well, all with big words and soft, creamy pages with lovely, colourful drawings that Thor found rather cute and which Loki found rather simple.

"Why in the world would anybody want to eat green eggs?" Loki had asked, upon catching the title of one of the books Thor had brought back. "Perhaps Midgardians are not as smart as we have given them credit for, if they cannot recognise an expired egg as such."

The Man of Iron had also taken Thor to a fantastically large shoppe called IKEA and told him that there were several lovely, functional pieces of furniture there that he could purchase, that he would probably need a bookshelf of sorts. Thor had agreed and had selected one he saw in a model child's bedroom, a deep cherry colour with big shelves and cubbies for toys and stuffed animals. Although why the bears in Midgard were so small, Thor had no idea. Perhaps they were bear cubs? But that seemed positively barbaric. Anthony had told him they weren't actual stuffed bears, but Thor was inclined to believe quite the opposite.

Unfortunately, Anthony hadn't told him how difficult the assembly of the bookshelf was to be.

Loki curses rather violently (or at least, it sounded like cursing, Thor wasn't quite sure what language that was) as he bangs his fingers for the umpteenth time attempting to hammer the shelves together. He throws his hands up in despair and glowers at the wood, and Thor laughs. He can't help it.

Loki casts him a withering look before standing up, dusting himself off, and flouncing out of their bedroom rather dramatically.

Thor smiles down at the pile of shelves and wooden dowels meant to hold them together, sits down on the floor, and whistles as he taps Mjolnir carefully along the shelves and brings the bookcase together.

* * *

Loki is, for his part, amazed when he comes back an hour or so later and sees the bookcase standing completed in the middle of their room.

"You've actually managed to follow instructions for once," Loki says, sounding more incredulous than exasperated, and Thor smiles innocently at him.

Of course, the bookcase is too wide to be pushed through their bedroom doors, and Loki has another fit before blasting the entire door off its hinges with a stream of green sparks and a marvellously great bang. Thor watches, amusement in his eyes, as Loki half-drags, half-pushes the bookcase through the new hole in the wall, grumbling the whole way to the nursery.


	10. Oniochalasia

Written to You Make Me - Avicii, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Oniochalasia:** Buying or shopping as a method of stress relief or relaxation._

Wedding planning was indeed just as hard as those Midgardian romantic comedies would lead him to believe, and with the royal wedding only a few months' time away, Loki was thrown into a full fledged panic. There was still so much to do and so much to plan, and Thor wasn't helping matters at all.

Loki snaps when Thor asks him if they could include phoenix downs in the wedding favours bags.

"No, definitely not!" Loki shrieks, tugging at his hair. Loki had been getting rather fond of Asgard's slowly growing phoenix population, lovely as they were, and he would absolutely not see them plucked bald and wrinkled and featherless like common poultry. And just the thought of Anthony Stark using a phoenix down to pen a letter (if he could stoop to that level, heaven forbid he get his hands stained with ink) made Loki see red.

"Loki, fairest," Thor calls over, trying to placate him. "It was just a thought."

"Well, you would be wise to keep your thoughts to yourself next time," Loki snarls rather viciously before disappearing in a puff, and leaving Thor rather confused on the nursery floor, surrounded by glossy catalogues.

"Your mama is a little bit crazy," Thor informs Modi, who looks at him with big blue eyes from his bassinet. Modi just gives Thor a long-suffering gaze that looks altogether like Loki reincarnate, before sighing, stuffing his thumb in his mouth, and taking a nap.

* * *

"You have to promise you won't cause a scene," Darcy tells him as she backs carefully out of her driveway. Loki had, not even half an hour ago, popped into her bathroom with a little puff of green smoke and commanded her to take him to the shoppes. "There's no other H&Ms in a 50-mile radius."

Loki examines his nails and rolls his eyes. "If that is what you desire."

"What's gotten into you?" Darcy asks, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye. Loki had had the good graces to send her a wedding invitation, and Darcy was well aware of the impending wedding. "Shouldn't you be planning your wedding?"

Loki snorts, looks out the Honda's window at the tall skyscrapers of New York. "It's difficult to plan a wedding with an imbecile for a husband. He wanted to pluck phoenix downs and give them out as favours. Can you imagine? Phoenix downs! I know you Midgardians have no concept of value, but a single phoenix feather is worth more than tens of millions of your petty birds."

"Would they bring people back from the dead?" Darcy asks. She had been an avid Final Fantasy fan since high school.

Loki stares at her in disbelief. "No, of course not," he says, as if it were obvious. "Don't ask such asinine questions."

Darcy makes a mental note to herself to somehow get her hands on one of the feathers.

* * *

"Loki, I'm pretty sure this is illegal," Darcy tells him as he walks out of yet another shoppe laden down with bags. "You can't just counterfeit money like that, it'll ruin the economy."

Loki smiles cheerfully as he sits down beside her, adding his bags to the giant pile beside Darcy and taking a sip of Darcy's latte.

"Your economy is trashed anyway," he informs her sweetly, before gesturing down at himself. "And I look amazing."

Darcy looks, and has to grudgingly admit that Loki looks better in black skinny jeans than she ever will.


	11. Groak

Written to: Love Is an Open Door - Frozen Soundtrack, Hans (Santino Fontana) and Anna (Kristen Bell), crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Groak: **To stare longingly at someone who is eating in the hope that they will ask you to join them._

Loki glares at Thor, who is stuffing his face with hams, piling the bones messily up on an empty plate beside him. Thor had killed the boar only a few hours ago, and was already nearly three-quarters of the way through consuming it. Loki sniffs in disgust and looks down at his own scant plate of celery and carrot sticks with distaste.

Loki had been absolutely aghast when he'd taken out his traditional Jotunheimr ceremonial garb the other day and discovered that it was cinching a bit too tightly around the waist for him to breathe properly. He had stood in front of the bath's silvered looking-glass and examined himself critically, and was absolutely horrified to find that all those Midgardian sweets he was so fond of had started to show a bit. Thor, the imbecile that he was, didn't seem to mind, and told Loki of a Midgardian saying about cushions that Loki didn't particularly understand while trying to coerce him into bed.

Loki had only grudgingly conceded, because those sorts of activities burnt calories.

Loki looks down at his plate glumly, prodding a limp stalk of celery forlornly. After telling Frigga about his problems, she'd apparently told the cooks to put a hold on his cake consumption until he could suitably fit into his wedding garments again. And, of course, he could just simply magic cake for himself, but that would completely defeat the purpose of having someone else make them for him.

Loki looks over at Thor again, and has to dig his fingers into his napkin to restrain himself as Thor shovels large bites of jam cake into his mouth. Thor feels his heavy gaze, looks back at him, crumbs of pastry stuck in his beard. Thor glances down at Loki's plate of carrots and celery, back at his longing gaze, back to the vegetables again.

Thor looks around, making sure the queen isn't anywhere in sight, before quickly pushing a slice of cake across the table, his smile sticky, and Loki cannot help but smile back as he takes up a fork.


	12. Qualtagh

Written to: For the First Time in Forever - Frozen OST, Anna (Kristen Bell) and Elsa (Idina Menzel). More focused on the Anna side of the song than Elsa's, but...eh. Elsa's side is good too, just not as fitting for this chapter, crosspost from AO3.

* * *

_**Qualtagh: **The first person you meet on a special day._

Loki hadn't seen Thor in two weeks; it was some strange Midgardian custom about the bride and groom not seeing each other that Thor had insisted upon observing as a nod to his fellow Avengers. Loki thought it was completely absurd, and had searched through all of Asgard for the other god; when he couldn't find him, Loki began a frantic search through the rest of the nine realms (when he got to Svartalfheim, Malekith glared at him and hissed like a dying cat; clearly Loki wasn't welcome there, not since the accident) to no avail.

And he had eventually given up, taking solace in dressing Modi up in his tiny ceremonial robes. Jory had been given a set of clothing, too, for the royal wedding, but the baby serpent hated the tiny knitted sweater, thought it was far too itchy around his neck and what were the sleeves for, really, were these people blind, he didn't have arms.

"You look gorgeous, darling," Farbauti says gently, snapping Loki out of his thoughts. He examines himself in the looking glass, admires the cool silver silk threaded through with deep ivy threads draped over his shoulders.

"Yes, just one thing," Frigga adds, turning to fetch something from her dresser. When she turns back, she smiles up at Loki, opening her hands to him, displaying a slender golden circlet. "Let me put this on for you?"

Loki smiles, bends his head down, lets Frigga arrange the circlet over his temples. Frigga steps back to stand by Farbauti, the two of them smiling proudly up at him, and Loki bites the inside of his cheek to stop the tears crawling up his throat from spilling.

"Thank you," he says softly. "Thank you both, so, so much."

* * *

Loki stands before the closed chapel door, hearing the voices inside, and tries to quell the hammering of his heart, clinging tightly to Laufey's arm on one side and Odin's on the other. He thinks that Odin, today, looks particularly like the sultan from an animated Midgardian movie he had once seen, and he has to stifle the urge to giggle crazily as the doors swing open gently in front of them and they start to move forward.

All the guests stand, and their faces blur in front of Loki, all bright eyes and smiles of awe and amazement. He sees Darcy standing at the front, pretty in a simple, creamy blue dress, taking her place as maid of honour; sees the other Avengers dressed in formal clothing as various bridesmaids and groomsmen. He glares at Anthony, but the Man of Iron either ignores him or doesn't see him through the lacy veil that covers Loki's face. He prefers to think it was the latter.

Laufey and Odin part to the sides, depositing Loki by Thor, and the high priest begins the ceremony in a low, droning voice that would have Loki dozing off if he hadn't been so excited and jumpy.

Loki doesn't catch most of the ceremony, the words rushing through him and over him, not staying long enough for comprehension.

He comes back to himself as Thor turns to him, lifts up his broad hands and gently, gently pulls back the veil. Without the lace to cover his sight, Loki is surprised when he sees the tears shining in Thor's blue eyes, and he begins to worry that something is wrong.

"Oh, Loki," Thor whispers, cradling his face in his hands, "you are so lovely."

Loki feels the tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes as he smiles brilliantly, and returns Thor's kiss and tight embrace while the hall erupts in applause around them.


	13. Culaccino

Written to: Summer - Joe Hisaishi, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Culaccino**_: _The ring left on a table by a cold glass._

Loki looks at the guests, twirling around in happy pairs, skirts of all colours and lengths perfect circles of motion. He sits down heavily in his chair at the head of the festivities, glad to rest his aching feet for just a few moments, smiling as Thor hoists a small, blonde Asgardian child for a dance.

The ale and wine flow freely from pitcher to glass, and everyone's eyes are sparkling and bright with merriment. In the corner, Laufey had managed to snatch away an entire sheet cake just for himself, and was regaling a rather drunk Odin with tales of war and conquest in between huge bites that left crumbs all around his mouth. Frigga was laughing and talking to Farbauti about something or other as the frost queen petted Jory's head and let the little snake nibble at her fingers. Jory had given her the puppy dog look (or as best he could, anyway, he was a snake after all, and his eyes were quite beady) and had coerced her into taking the itchy sweater off, and so he was more than happy to let her pet him and rub his head while he stole tiny nibbles of ham off her plate when he thought she wasn't looking.

Helblindi is talking animatedly to Darcy about something, gesturing wildly in the air, and Loki catches a glimpse of something brilliant scarlet in between his fingers. He wonders if it is a phoenix feather, wonders what on earth Helblindi could possibly have in common with Darcy Lewis. He watches with amused curiosity as Helblindi shyly holds out the feather to her, smiles as she takes it eagerly and says something to Helblindi that has his blue cheeks flushing a rather deep shade of violet.

At the nursery table, Modi is surrounded by a gaggle of other tiny toddlers and children, cooing and laughing with the rest of them under the careful eye of a nurse. Even from here, Loki can make out the burble that is Modi's giggle.

He looks out over the bustling crowd again, tracing the rim of his water glass with an idle finger and listening to the high, sweet tones it produces absentmindedly. The lights dance softly across his vision, and he takes a slow, deep breath, trying to imprint every single moment, every single detail of tonight, in his mind. He picks up the glass, taking a swallow of the cool, clear water.

He is interrupted by a small tug at his cloak. He looks down with an arched brow, finding a small Asgardian toddler, all chubby cheeks and blue eyes and fair blonde hair, pulling at his knee.

"Pwince T'or said I had to ask you to dance wiv me," the little boy says, holding up his tiny hands, and Loki cannot help but wonder if this is what Modi will look like in a few years. He looks out across the room, catches Thor smiling at him, holding out a broad hand.

"Did the prince Thor really say such a thing?" Loki asks, turning his gaze back to the boy, with wide eyes. The little boy nods vigorously, causing a slew of blonde curls to spill over his eyes. Loki smiles as he gently pushes them back, tucking them behind the boy's ears.

"Well, I suppose if he said so, I'll have to do it," Loki says, setting the glass down on the table. The condensation makes another ring in the white silk tablecloth, and he smiles fondly as he gently traces it with his index finger, watches the water stain fade into cool nothingness.

He leans down, scoops the boy up into his arms, and walks out to join Thor.


	14. Gymnophoria

Written to Germany to Germany - Ratatat, crosspost from AO3.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone :)

* * *

_**Gymnophoria: **The distinct feeling that someone, somewhere, is mentally undressing you. _

Loki waltzes slowly round the floor, bend over so that the little Asgardian boy could lead with clumsy, tottering steps that have him crashing into the backs of other dancer's legs and stepping more often than not on Loki's toes. Loki smiles gently at the little boy, and that only encourages him to tighten his grip on Loki's index and middle fingers on both hands.

As the orchestra calls for a break, the little boy smiles sweetly up at Loki, does a clumsy bow that almost has him falling flat on the floor before running off to his mother, who is smiling and holding out her arms to him from the side.

Loki stands up, stretching to get rid of the knots in his back that came from bending nearly double. As he surveys the emptying dance floor, he finds that Thor is nowhere to be seen. Frigga and Farbauti are over with the children, playing monsters and maidens, Modi ensconced carefully in the curve of Farbauti's arm and watching the other children play with bright blue eyes. Odin had fallen asleep a few dances ago, his beard dipping into his cup of wine, and Laufey had followed suit, except that he had fallen asleep in the half-eaten sheet cake he had been in the process of demolishing, and his brow currently rested in a pile of white buttercream frosting.

Helblindi and Darcy had disappeared, and Loki wondered with a smirk which of the bedrooms they had decided to pursue shenanigans in (before the ceremony, as a way of dispelling pre-wedding jitters, he'd gone through all of the bedrooms in the castle and had rigged them in various ways - some with snakes and copious amounts of silly string, others with models of ghosts and other supernatural monsters). Byleistr was over in the dark shadows behind a pillar, making out (but, in all fairness, it was more like gnawing) with the Thor clone that he had marked as his 'guest.'

Loki searches around the vast room, wondering where Thor was.

He finally catches sight of his husband, standing by the remnants of the wedding cake, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes over a goblet of wine. He watches Thor's gaze as it rakes over him, clearly heated even from that distance, stripping away layers of silk and satin and lace until Loki feels cool and exposed underneath his stare.

Thor's eyes slowly drag themselves up the curves of Loki's waist, skimming over the silver cloak that drapes like water across his slim shoulders, to meet Loki's gaze. Thor tilts his head subtly to the side, and Loki grins as he hurries over to comply.

* * *

"Only for a little bit," he gasps as Thor presses his mouth hot and insistent to Loki's. "We cannot just simply leave our guests like this."

Thor grins, his beard tickling at the sensitive point behind Loki's ear. "An unfortunate custom that we must observe," he whispers, tugging Loki to a bedroom door.

"Like that asinine Midgardian thing you insisted we do?" Loki breathes as Thor half-drags, half-carries him across the dark corridor. "Not seeing each other for weeks before this? I was half-mad looking for you."

"You are half-mad all the time, sweet brother," Thor murmurs with a laugh. "I love you all the more for it."

Loki smiles, and Thor reaches out for the doorknob, flinging open the bedroom door, ready to lay Loki out on the bed inside and have his way with him. Much to Thor's surprise, the door opens onto another door; when he flings this one open too, there is yet another door behind it.

"What manner of sorcery is this?" Thor mutters under his breath, astounded as the doors keep opening onto more doors in front of him, getting smaller and smaller and smaller until they are not even doors at all, but mere coverings for mouseholes.

Behind him, Loki stifles a giggle into the sleeve of his cloak before taking Thor's hand and dragging him off to another room.


	15. Cafuné

Written to: Cutdown - Matt and Kim, crosspost from AO3.

* * *

_**Cafuné: **running your fingers through your lover's hair._

"A honeymoon?" Loki asks as he curls up and pillows his head on Thor's chest, Thor's fingers tangling lazily through his hair. "Where would you wish to go?"

Thor stares up at the ceiling, smiling helplessly as the sounds of the party grow and swell before ebbing back to quiet murmurs beneath them. He hugs Loki close to him, feeling his pulse against his own, beating in tandem.

"Well, perhaps not quite yet," Thor says. "Modi is still very young, but a babe. I would not wish to burden anyone with his demands."

Loki smiles against Thor's skin, watches Thor's chest rise and fall with his deep breaths. "They all adore Modi. Even my father. It would not be much of a burden, and you know that. We would probably come back from the excursion to find him spoilt beyond belief, with both realms twined around his littlest finger and ready to go to war for his littlest cry."

Thor laughs, a deep rumble against Loki's cheek as he strokes Loki's hair.

"We have millennia to decide," Thor murmurs as he rolls over again, pinning Loki beneath him and admiring his debauched appearance. "It does not have to be now."

He lowers himself to give Loki a kiss, and as his beard tickles Loki's chin, Loki thinks that the rest of their eternities is a honeymoon in itself.


	16. Skinship

Written to: Closer to Love - Mat Kearney, crosspost from AO3.

* * *

_**Skinship: **Bonding through the intimacy of touch, especially of the closeness between a parent and child. Can also connote 'sharing a bath naked,' but more often has the platonic context._

Loki walks into the baths one evening to find Thor and Modi already ensconced in a tub, warm, bubbly water slopping over the sides as Thor shifts Modi from one arm to the other to reach for a damp washcloth.

Loki gingerly perches himself on the edge of the tub, watching as Thor gently pats Modi's cheeks with the washcloth and runs careful fingers through Modi's damp curls, which have darkened to a bronze colour under the warm water. Modi squeals with delight when he tilts his head back and sees Loki sitting at the edge of the tub, reaching out tiny, soapy slick fingers to him. Loki smiles and obliges him, holding out his hand and allowing Modi to wrap his fingers around his thumb.

Thor looks up. "You are far too dressed," he informs Loki, and before Loki knows it, Thor is kicking a small swell of water over the edge of the tub, soaking Loki's trousers. Loki jumps up, frowns at the water dripping down his legs. Thor just smiles good-naturedly at him, his grin widening as Loki rolls his eyes, peels his sopping trousers off his legs before wriggling out of his shirt and tossing the clothes in a disgraceful heap on the floor.

Thor shifts his legs to one side as Loki clambers into the tub, causing more water to slosh out over the tiles and disrupting the thin film of bubbles on the water's surface. Loki settles himself into the tub, reveling in the warm water against his skin that reaches up to the hollow of his throat. Modi splashes at the water with his hands as Thor beckons Loki to move closer so that he can wash his back for him.

They spend hours in the tub, their skin turning wrinkled and pruny, and Modi gasps in delight as Loki puffs his cheeks out and blows across the surface of the water, using his seidr to blow fresh, fat bubbles that pop against Modi's cheeks and eyelashes and his questioning fingers.

Thor wraps an arm around Loki's shoulders, and Loki rests his head in the hollow of Thor's neck with a smile while Modi squeals and laughs and splashes between them.


	17. Basorexia

Written to Smile - Uncle Kracker, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Basorexia: **The overwhelming desire to kiss._

Thor watches Loki work in the gardens, weeding and pruning and watering with one hand while the other twirled around in the air, teaching the rose vines to twine around the stakes he'd stuck in the dirt, teaching them how to grow. Modi lay on a blanket beside him, tiny hands reaching up into the air to try to catch an iridescent blue dragonfly that hovers just above his reach.

He's supposed to be training with Sif right now; she had wanted to show him some new move with her battle-axe, and had cheerfully told Thor that the next time he was late to practice she would smack him over the head with his own hammer. Thor sincerely doubted this; he was the only one who could lift Mjolnir, but Sif was not a force to be countered with when she was angry.

He smiles as he leans against one of Idunn's apple trees and watches Loki wipe at his forehead with the back of one hand, leaving a streak of dirt across his fair skin that Thor can see even from here. The dragonfly lands on Modi's nose, and Thor hides a laugh into his hand as his son goes cross-eyed trying to look at the insect, his little hands waving about confusedly, unsure of what to do.

Loki looks over at Modi's squeals of delight, the corners of his mouth twitching up when he sees what all the fuss is about. Then his eyes travel up, up, up, to where Thor is standing in the shade of an apple tree, and Thor cannot help but grin back as Loki's entire face lights up.

He is about to go to them when he feels a firm hand gripping his wrist. He turns.

"You're late again, Thor," Sif says, but even though her tone is serious, there is a spark of laughter dancing in her eyes as she looks past him at Loki and Modi. "Had this been a real battle, no one would have waited for you for the merriment to start."

Thor smiles at her. "I am sorry, Lady Sif, truly," he says, but he and she both know that this won't be the last time. "I will be there in a moment, there is just something I have to do first."

He leaves her standing under the tree, a skip in his step as he walks over to the two of them. He scoops Modi up into one arm, the dragonfly fluttering away with a flash of brilliant blue, wraps the other arm around Loki. Modi giggles and gurgles against his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to Loki's laughing mouth, and Sif, from the shade of the apple tree, hides a smile into the curve of her hand.


	18. Tsundoku

Written to: Spectrum [Extended Mix] - Zedd ft. Matthew Koma, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Tsundoku: **Buying books and not reading them; letting books pile up unread on shelves or floors or nightstands._

"We have far too many books. You have far too many books," Thor tells Loki one evening after he opens the armoire to store his armour and is promptly buried under an avalanche of paper and letters. He picks himself out from underneath the pile, trying not to damage anything, lest he provoke Loki's wrath, and places his hands on his hips as he surveys the mound of books lying at his feet.

"Have you even read any of these?" Thor wants to know, picking up a title at random and holding it upside down for a few moments, wondering what language it was in before finally realising his mistake and turning it right side up. "This is a Midgardian tome," he says after squinting at the title for a few moments. "Fifty Shades of Grey? I was not aware there was such a range for such an uninteresting colour."

At that, Loki scrambles from his place on the bed to snatch the book out of Thor's hands. Thor looks at him in confusion, and Loki huffs in annoyance, a flush of embarrassment crawling across his cheeks as he hides the book behind his back.

"I'm going to read all of them," he mutters in irritation, and Thor looks on in bemusement as Loki flicks his wrist, sends the books flying back into the armoire to stack themselves neatly once again, leaving plenty of room for Thor's armour. Once the job is done, Loki turns to Thor, not meeting his eye. "I just haven't gotten around to them yet."

Thor arches an eyebrow at Loki's clear discomfort, and decides to leave his questions for another day.

* * *

Thor did eventually find Loki's copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, flipped randomly to the middle, and read for about three minutes before slamming the book closed and going off to find Loki.


	19. Lethologica

Written to: Gonna Take You There - The Princess and the Frog OST (Disney), crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Lethologica: **When you think of something, but the word for it escapes you._

Thor doesn't know what to call the emotion that rises up in him when Modi reaches out to him with tiny hands and curls his fingers in the front of his robes. It makes his heart swell and throb with excitement, a sort of quiet pride as Modi turns his head to the side and opens sleepy blue eyes to look at him for a moment before his entire face breaks out into a smile.

He doesn't know what to call it when he feels his heart skip a beat as he watches Loki roll over in his sleep and rub his cheek against Thor's shoulder. He doesn't know what happens, why he holds his breath as Loki's eyelashes flutter before his eyes open, foggy and heavy with sleep. He doesn't know why he smiles whenever Loki stares at him blankly for a few moments before sighing and stretching, his mouth opening in a yawn as he rubs the dreams from his eyes and kicking the sheets away from where they're tangled around his legs.

He knows that he feels undeniably nervous whenever he picks up Modi, a fear of hurting this soft little being in his arms even as Modi giggles up at him. He knows that he feels perfectly at peace when he is curled around and over Loki in bed, breathing in Loki's soft scent, something like new books and lavender and a spice that is absolutely Loki.

He tells Loki all of this one day as Loki is still half-asleep, the mid-morning sunshine painting his cheek with gold.

"Wha's that?" Loki asks, his words slurred as he scrubs over his eyes with the palm of his hand, smacking his lips, and Thor has an irresistible urge to draw him into his arms. He does, and against the curve of his shoulder, Loki mumbles again, "Wha d'you want, leggo, I can't breathe."

After loosening his hold a bit so that Loki has ample room to breathe, Thor tells him again, tells him about the way his heart flutters, how he stops breathing sometimes, how he cannot describe it for the life of him.

Loki pulls back from him, his hands cool against Thor's chest. He rolls his eyes at Thor, snorts. "I believe the word you're looking for is love," Loki informs him, as if the answer were completely obvious, before rolling back over and snuggling down into the rumpled bedsheets again.

Thor slots his head into the hollow in between Loki's shoulder blades, listens to his soft, deep breaths, and wonders how Loki is able to label such complex things with such simple words.

When he asks Loki a bit later, when his brother is fully awake, Loki just rolls his eyes again and informs Thor that it wouldn't hurt to read a book or two every century or so before chucking The Notebook at him.

Thor was an inconsolable wreck for the rest of the week.


	20. Witzelsucht

Written to The Girl - City and Colour, crosspost from AO3.

Am I sorry I wrote this chapter? Absolutely not. Do I realise how terrible it is? Absolutely.

* * *

_**Witzelsucht: **a feeble attempt at humour; excessive facetiousness; a condition where the patient compulsively tells puns._

In the past few weeks, while he was down on Midgard battling a new upcropping of Chitauri, Thor had become positively infatuated with Midgardian fast food restaurants. The Chitauri had later apologised and told the Avengers that it had been a navigational error, they had meant to go to the second universe to the left, not to the right; the mistake was quickly cleared up and the Chitauri went on their way.

"And, love, they deliver the food to you so quickly it's almost like they magic it into being!" Thor tells Loki, his head pillowed on Loki's thigh as he gestures in the air. Loki does not appear impressed, and only sniffs a bit as he tries to put his attention back on Anna Karenina.

"We must go sometime," Thor says, rolling over and nudging the book out of Loki's hands. It falls to the covers with a heavy thunk worthy of Russian literature. "I will take you and show you."

Loki doesn't say anything, but he is rather glad for Thor's interruption; reading about Anna's two-timing nature with Vronsky and the other fellow was getting to be rather tedious.

* * *

The day before they were supposed to go to Midgard, Loki was reading Rapunzel to Modi, who watched him with bright eyes from where he lay on the floor. Jory was curled up in a little coil next to Modi, flicking his little tongue out every now and then as Loki read in soft, melodic tones. The snake didn't really understand the concept of hair, everybody had hair except him, but he supposed that it was a good thing he didn't have hair, otherwise he might end up like that foolish girl in the story Mama was reading. Nor was he a girl, for that matter.

Loki flicked his wrist lazily, and a small picture of the tower popped up in front of Modi and Jory, streams of golden hair spilling out the windows. Modi gasped and waved chubby hands up to touch the picture, and Loki smiled at his children before turning back to the book.

While Loki wasn't looking, Modi slapped at the air, his little brow furrowed, and before Loki knew it, a small stream of seidr came up to smack him in the mouth. He looked over at the two of them, and Jory pointed an accusing tail at Modi, who just babbled innocently at him. Loki decided to ignore it.

* * *

"Taco Bell."

"Yes!" Thor exclaims in delight as he takes Loki by the wrist and leads him toward the door. "Lord Taco is indeed a fantastic man." Modi swings happily from his carrier and babbles up at the two of them.

Loki sits down at a white table, grimacing at the sticky spots of spilt soda all over the table and trying not to touch anything while Thor orders. He lifts Modi out of his carrier and ensconces him in a wooden seat close by to the table, wiping the surface in front of him. Thor sits down in front of him in a few moments, beaming broadly.

Loki feels an itching around the corners of his mouth, an itching on the very tip of his tongue, but ignores it as one of the employees brings out a tray of food. Thor had been right; the service was indeed rather quick.

Modi, prone to grabbing anything and everything that was set in front of him, instantly reaches out to stick his fingers into a small pool of orange cheese. Loki quickly grasps his wrist, tutting. "That is nacho cheese." He stops immediately after saying that, holding his fingers to his mouth, horrified.

"That's right, Loki, it is nacho cheese!" Thor says in delight, smiling over at the two of them. "How did you know that? Has Lord Taco invited you for dinner as well during your excursions on Midgard?"

"I don't want to taco bout it," Loki mutters, flushing scarlet. He reaches out, stuffs something into his mouth to keep himself from talking, he was embarrassing himself, but Thor was too much of a buffoon to appreciate Loki's normal witty humour.

After he finishes and leans back, wiping his mouth with the cheap paper napkins that were provided, Loki tells himself determinedly that he will not talk any more, but his tongue is itching more than ever. The same tired looking employee comes out with a second platter of food, this one even more crowded than the last, and sets it down in front of them.

"That Juan is yours?" Loki asks, arching an eyebrow before clapping his hands over his mouth. Thor pauses in his ferocious chewing to stare at Loki in confusion.

"No, fairest..." he says after a moment, spitting taco shell out all over the table. "I do not keep slaves, you know that. And his name is Patrick, it looks like."

To the side of the table, Modi giggles and sticks his fingers into a puddle of cheese.


	21. Obdormition

Written to: Lovers in Japan - Coldplay, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Obdormition: **when your limbs fall asleep; numbness caused by pressure on a nerve_

Thor wakes up in the middle of the night to find his right arm missing. When he looks over, it is still there, firmly attached to his body, but it might as well be someone else's for all it feels. Certainly it cannot help that Loki is coiled about it like a snake, his thighs firmly wrapped around Thor's wrist, making soft, repetitive motions and biting into the covers, and Thor curses his useless arm for not being able to feel.

He watches Loki roll his hips into the mattress, into Thor's hand, watches the fluid lines of his back as he arches down and presses a sob into the curve of his hand. Loki's face is turned away from him, but Thor can just catch the twitches at the corners of his mouth as he tries to stifle a whimper and fails.

Thor keeps himself very still, watching, and when Loki's entire body stiffens next to him before breaking out into loose-limbed trembles, Thor finds that he can feel the soft warmth trickling over his fingers and seeping into the sheets, and he grins, turning his face away so that Loki cannot see.


	22. Kilig

Written to: Here We Are - Patrick Park, crosspost from AO3

* * *

**_Kilig: _**_The rush or the inexplicable joy one feels after seeing or experiencing something romantic._

Darcy wakes up to a banging on her door. She groans, flops over and yells at the person outside that she doesn't want to subscribe to any newspapers, and to go away. When the knocking starts up again, she wants to scream in frustration. With a glance at her alarm clock (well, it was half past ten, it was probably as good a time to get up as any), she grumbles as she sticks her feet into fluffy bunny slippers and shuffles across the apartment to answer the door.

She cracks open the door, draws back the chain. Much to her vast surprise, Helblindi is standing outside her door. Clearly he hadn't had to apply glamour before, but he actually looks fairly normal, with the exception of his blue-black hair and his deep violet lips.

When she opens the door, he looks up from where he is wearing a hole into the shoddy grey carpet with the toe of one of his black Converse. As his eyes meet hers, Darcy is suddenly conscious of how tall he is, how messy her hair probably is, all tangled and matted with sleep.

"Forgive me, Lady Darcy," he says shyly, and Darcy wonders what he has to be shy about. "I did not mean to wake you."

He holds out a brilliant, pale blue bunch of flowers, like none Darcy has ever seen before on Earth. She accepts them gratefully, burying her nose in them and letting the scent of ice and mint and cold fill her nose.

Darcy steps back, invites him in, and he folds his long, long legs underneath her round dining table.

She makes promises that she just needs a few minutes to get ready for whatever he has planned, before running off to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her, and hugging a pillow to her chest as she tries to hold in her excitement.

* * *

After an eventful day at the zoo, holding hands and eating ice cream, Darcy sighs and stretches out on her bed, grinning stupidly up at the ceiling. Helblindi had told her that, unfortunately, he did have some royal duties to attend to (namely, seeing that Byleistr was getting along with Malekith while the Dark Elf stayed in Jotunheimr on some diplomatic mission), but that he would be back soon.

Darcy picks up her mobile and dials Loki, who picks up after a few rings. The two chat through shoddy connections and the distances of realms, until Loki excuses himself to go look after Modi.

She flops onto her back, smiling fit to burst, and turns her head to look at the vase of ice blue flowers on her nightstand.


	23. Brumous

Written to Fresh Snow - Moonlit Sailor, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Brumous: **__of grey skies and winter days; filled with heavy clouds or fog; relating to winter or cold, sunless weather._

Loki wakes one morning to find the clouds grey and thick outside the balcony windows, their underbellies pregnant with rain and snow and hail. As he rolls out of bed, he flinches away at the chilly stones beneath his feet. Thor, for once, is lying on his side in bed, still sleeping soundly, as Loki pads over to the windows and places his palms lightly against the glass, watching it fog up against his skin.

His glamour flickers, streaks of blue spilling across his skin like ink into water, and he watches with detached curiosity as his reflection's skin etches crimson, as his lips colour violet, until he looks the proper frost prince once more.

Hearing Modi's soft babbling from the other room and not wishing to wake Thor, Loki quickly hurries over to the nursery to attend to Modi's needs.

When he gets there, much to his surprise, he looks into the cradle to find a frost child. Modi gurgles up at him happily, reaching out soft blue hands to him, and Loki strokes his fingers through blue-black ringlets of downy hair as he presses a kiss to Modi's chubby cheek. His skin is slightly warmer than Loki's, and Loki arranges the blankets more tightly around his son as he carries Modi over to the nursery windows.

Modi peers outside with wide, maroon eyes, pats his fingers against the cold glass, and starts in surprise as a spattering of frost streaks out in brilliant bursts from where he touches the window. Loki grins and places his hand on the window next to Modi's, and Modi gasps in awe, drooling all over Loki's chest as Loki traces icy swirling patterns over the window.

"He is like you," a voice says from the doorway. Loki turns a bit, glancing over his shoulder to see Frigga leaning against the nursery door. Her eyes are soft and gentle as she watches Modi slap the window, bursts of frost radiating outwards from his palms. "Magic before he could even sit up by himself."

Frigga walks over, her footfalls light on the nursery carpet, and Modi looks over from the window. When he sees her, his face lights up in delight and he smiles toothlessly at her. She smiles back, pinches his cheek gently.

"Perhaps we should ask Farbauti to come," Frigga says absentmindedly, as Modi threads blue fingers through her hair and tugs. "She is much more skilled at these sorts of spells than I."

Thor watches the interaction from the grey shadows of the nursery doorway, watches his son spark magic across the window panes and clap his hands in delight. He makes a mental note to ask the blacksmiths to produce a training staff in addition to a miniature warhammer.


	24. Gigil

Written to: Moth's Wings - Passion Pit, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Gigil/Gheegle:** __The urge to pinch or squeeze something that is unbearably cute._

Tony looks at the squirming bundle in his lap, prods it with a tentative finger before quickly jerking his hand away just in case the...thing were to explode or spontaneously burst into flames. Knowing Loki, he wouldn't have been surprised if either of those things were to happen.

Modi burbles up at him, blowing a spit bubble, and Tony frowns down at him. Thor had deposited Modi with the other Avengers before hurriedly dragging Loki off to show him the bedroom that Tony had built for him in the tower, complete with an industrial strength bed, and Tony really would rather prefer not to think about those sorts of activities at the present moment.

Steve, sitting beside him, makes little nonsense noises to the thing, who coos curiously back at him as he waggles his fingers at it.

"Must you encourage it?" Tony asks, rolling his eyes at the captain, who was sticking out his tongue at Modi. "It's already far too noisy for this time of the morning as it is," he mutters as Modi babbles and squeals in laughter.

When Steve just keeps making faces at it, Tony rolls his eyes dramatically and deposits Modi in Steve's lap. Steve gasps in delight and pinches Modi's chubby cheeks, squeezing him close to his chest, while Tony just stares.

"Who's a cute little baby? Who's a cute little baby? You, that's who!" Steve exclaims, tickling Modi whose laughs were piercing through Tony's head.

Tony waves his hand in front of Steve's face, but Steve is completely oblivious to anything besides the squirming bundle in his arms.

"Cap. Malekith just landed in Times Square."

No response, save for Steve giving Modi Eskimo kisses.

"Captain Rogers. There's been a Nazi uprising in Washington, D.C."

No response.

"Steve. Loki just stole the Declaration of Independence."

Tony thought he detected a faint twitch of Steve's eye, but he couldn't be sure, as Steve was utterly and completely fascinated by Modi curling his tiny fingers around Steve's thumb.

Tony tosses his hands up in the air in exasperation and bustles off to drink a cup of coffee or ten.


	25. Áoyè

Written to: El Pico - Ratatat, crosspost from AO3

* * *

**_Áoyè: _**_To burn the midnight oil; to pull an all nighter._

Bruce honestly didn't see why he had to be the one to watch Modi. Technically, Thor had entrusted the baby with Tony, but Tony had run off somewhere, probably to complain to Pepper about how he wasn't just a glorified babysitter. Bruce snorts to himself as he tinkers with his microscope, examines the bacteria trapped underneath the slide. Pepper probably wanted kids for herself, and surely the presence of Modi couldn't have helped much.

He looks over at the tiny snoozing baby in the carseat he had strapped him into hours earlier, with a firm look and a stern warning to "be good." Modi had babbled at him in that nonsense language of his, and Bruce had had to stifle a little grin.

He rubs his aching eyes, takes a sip from a mug of lukewarm black coffee, grimaces at the bitter taste before pushing his chair across the sterile laboratory tiles to fiddle with little screws on a teleportation device he was working on.

He must have been sleepier than he thought, because he kept nodding off, and his fingers seemed far too clumsy to be his own; the screws slipped past the clutch of his thumb and forefinger to drop on the ground with tiny little pings. When he bends down to scoop them up off the floor, he drops the screwdriver onto the tiles, and that makes a loud clatter that has Modi waking up with a start and whimpering in his seat.

"Oh, God," Bruce mutters under his breath, the screwdriver clutched firmly in one hand while the other went up to scrub at his eyes and pinch at the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending migraine. "Don't start crying, please," he says as he walks back over to Modi, who is waving his little hands about in confusion at the whiteness, at the sparse nature of the place.

When Bruce comes into his field of vision, Modi's whimpers start to fade, and he grins toothlessly up at him. Bruce smiles tiredly back at him, as he falls back into his chair.

"Listen here, little man," he says, gesturing to him; Modi seems far more entranced by the metallic device in his hand than him. "It's rather late, you should go back to sleep, okay? If you're going to be big and strong like your...dad, I guess, you need to get lots of rest."

When Modi babbles back at him, Bruce rolls his eyes, as if Modi had said something particularly sarcastic. "I know, you think you're a big boy now, you should get to stay up late with me. Fine by me, if you're tired in the morning, you can tell your mum that I advised you otherwise, alright?"

Bruce follows Modi's gaze to the screwdriver in his hands. "This is a screwdriver," he explains, as if Modi had asked. "See, look, the top goes into these little notches in the screws, like such."

Modi pays attention raptly, and, much to Bruce's surprise, furrows his tiny brows, sticks his tongue out, and the screwdriver jerks itself out of Bruce's hand and fits itself into the notches on the screw before fluttering down to the laboratory bench. Bruce rubs his eyes in disbelief, wondering if he was starting to hallucinate, but when he opens his eyes again, there it is, the screwdriver still fit perfectly into the screws. Modi is looking at him with big blue eyes, questioning.

"That's exactly right, kiddo," Bruce says in disbelief as the screwdriver begins to roll over the table. "That's how you attach things to other things."

When Thor comes charging into the laboratory a few hours later, his cape swirling about him and distress about a misplaced child written in his face, he finds Bruce and Modi sleeping on the laboratory table. Modi is carefully wrapped up in his blanket on the table, one of his little hands clutching tightly to a screwdriver.


	26. Abyssopelagic

Written to: Some Nights - Fun., crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Abyssopelagic: **Like or pertaining to the depths of the sea._

Thor doesn't know where Loki goes when he stares out the windows of their bedchambers, his head resting in the curve of his palm. He doesn't know what it is that Loki sees out there, why he drums his fingers restlessly against the window sill like he is playing an invisible piano with the music all mute so it is a song only he can hear.

He's asked Loki what he's thinking about, many times, but Loki only gives him an annoyed glance out of the corner of his eye and goes back to looking out the window.

In all reality, Loki isn't thinking about much when he stares out the window and absentmindedly traces drawings onto the bottom of the glass. His thoughts usually revolve around mundane things, like what he's going to have for dinner, what type of cake he would like to eat later, what story to read to Modi and Jörmungandr before bed.

But Thor doesn't know that, and so he asks Loki again and again if there is anything he can do or if there is anything he has done wrong. Sometimes Loki just gives him a short nod, just to see the creases appear between Thor's eyebrows as he racks his brains trying to think of what misdeeds he had committed. It amuses Loki to no end as Thor tries to prove his worth to him, through multitudes of flowers and kisses and sweets.

Thor is always greatly relieved those nights when Loki turns to him in their bed, a little smile dimpling the corners of his mouth, his eyes deep green in the flickering candlelight, and tells him not to worry anymore.


	27. Amaranthine

Written to: Painters - Joe Hisaishi, Hana-bi OST, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Amaranthine: **Undying, immortal, eternally beautiful; a deep purple-red._

It is the red in the corners of Loki's eyes that tells Thor when Loki is not feeling very well. A scarlet hue bleeds into the white, and many times Loki himself is unaware of it, all the while rubbing at his nose and trying to itch the tickle in his throat as he bats Thor and promises of hot chicken soup away, trying to convince himself that he is fine. Princes aren't supposed to get sick, and certainly not gods, and Loki is both.

It is when his skin begins to turn cooler, the colour of a twilight sky snaking up underneath his cuticles and smudging at the corners of his mouth with violet, that he finally admits to himself that perhaps he is a little bit ill. It is when his skin is fully navy and his purple lips are chapped and flaking that Loki allows Thor to pamper him with foot massages and steaming mugs of tea wrapped up in cloth so that he doesn't burn his frosted hands.

Loki breathes heavily through his mouth, whistling like a tiny kettle from somewhere deep in his chest as he dozes lightly in the armchair by the fire, wrapped up in furs and warm blankets. Thor smiles at him fondly, tucking the quilts a bit more tightly around his leaden limbs, before carrying their basket of laundry to the Bifrost.

When Heimdall raises a questioning eyebrow at him, Thor just shrugs and tells him that he wants it to be a surprise for Loki, a little bit of help since Loki has not been feeling very well. Heimdall just rolls his eyes and tells Thor that he is not to blame if Thor loses loose socks and other garments on the trip to Midgard. Thor assures him that he will not.

On Midgard, the basket of laundry balanced on his hip, Thor eyes the washing machine in the tower suspiciously. Pepper had often complained to anyone who would listen how the washing machine must have been possessed, it kept eating socks and not returning them. Thor pokes it tentatively with Mjolnir's handle, and when the machine does nothing, decides it is most certainly not possessed and cheerfully begins to load the garments into the machine.

He watches in awe as the machine begins to spin the clothes around, watches in fascination as water swirls in amongst the clothes, watches with horror as suds begin to spill out of the mouth of the machine. He jumps back as the washer foams at the mouth like a rabid animal, and quickly prays to the Norns that the Midgardian appliance would not eat his soul.

Clint comes in with a load of clothes, his and the Lady Natasha's, looks at Thor cowering in the corner of the laundry room, hiding from the wrath of the washing machine. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and instructs Thor on how to use the device, how much soap was appropriate to add. Thor listens to him intently, all the while watching the washer out of the corner of his eye just in case the metallic beast were to rise up in rebellion.

The next load Thor does, he does it perfectly, adding the right amount of soap and not overloading the washer, but, unbeknownst to him, one of Modi's red booties slips in, hidden in the folds of one of Loki's white night shirts.

When Thor sheepishly returns to Asgard, a basket of pink shirts in his arms, it is the red streaks high in Loki's cheeks that tells Thor that Loki is not particularly amused, even as he strips himself of his sweaty nightclothes and buttons up a fresh, pink shirt around himself.


	28. Fuubutsushi

Written to: Hide and Seek (Imogen Heap) - Time for Three, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Fuubutsushi: **The things - feelings, scents, images - that evoke memories or anticipation of a particular season._

Though he is a frost prince and is by nature drawn to the cold, Loki is always glad when the weather begins to turn again and the sun begins to rise earlier to melt the frosty dew on the window panes. The air is crisp and cool as he slides open the window shutters, quietly, so as not to wake Thor, who sleeps far more often in the winter like a bear hibernating and waiting for the spring. Loki leans against the windowsill, cradles his chin in his palms, and watches over the horizon as the sun begins to crest over the distant hills of Asgard, staining the skies with pinks and golds and oranges.

When Thor finally rises, and Loki has already been up for hours, they traipse down to the dining hall together to break their fast, Modi cradled in the curve of Loki's arm. With Modi taken care of, clinging to a bottle of warmed milk, Loki sits down at table and presses a serrated spoon into a grapefruit half.

He lets the tart, sweet flavour burst against his tongue, smiling in delight as notes of citrus wind their way around his mouth and down his throat, and it just tastes like spring and warmth and life.

He looks at Thor sitting across from him, eyes still bleary and tired, and remembers springs past, lying beneath cherry trees who spread pink and white blossoms all through the breeze and threaded their way into Thor's cloak and hair; when it would be warm enough for Loki to read outside again, Thor's head cradled in his lap as he spoke aloud tales of princesses and beauty; Thor's fingers, usually so clumsy and rough, making the most intricate of links on daisy chains and placing coronets of flowers on Loki's head, proclaiming him queen of Asgard and all its people.

He cannot stop the smile that worms its way across his face as he looks at Thor over his grapefruit, and Thor smiles tiredly back, still waking up as Loki urges spring's arrival.


	29. Vorfreude

Written to: Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Vorfreude: **The joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures._

"You really must be more quiet," Thor tells Loki one night as Loki is still recovering, reveling in the cool silk sheets beneath his heated, bare skin. Loki just curls himself around a pillow, trying not to rub himself too vigorously against the sheets as his flesh is still rather sensitive. "Or we must pursue our romantic encounters perhaps in another realm or in the forests or some other such. Some place we cannot be heard."

Loki mumbles something into his pillow, reaches blindly around him and takes one of Thor's hands to put it on his back, arching underneath it like a particularly contented cat. Thor unconsciously begins to rub soothing circles into Loki's skin.

"But it pleases me to hear you cry out in ecstasy," Thor muses, his hand slipping in between Loki's shoulder blades. "I love the sounds you make, all choked off like you don't want anyone to hear. I like it when you whimper into the palm of your hand as I stroke you and tease you and nip at you to leave bruises blossoming underneath your flesh."

Loki groans into the sheets, feeling ribbons of arousal worming their reluctant way down the curve of his spine, and Thor's palm suddenly feels far too warm. He begins to squirm.

"Perhaps next time we will use fingers," Thor continues, and how he can sound so thoughtful while talking about such sordid activities is beyond Loki's comprehension. "If you promise not to bite me again when I press my thumb into your mouth. I do need thumbs, you know, to hold Mjolnir."

Loki grins as he rolls over, his cock already half hard against his thigh, and drags Thor down for a kiss. "It would truly be a shame if you could not hold her," he murmurs against Thor's mouth, and he can feel Thor's smile against his lips.

"Most likely," Thor says, his gaze predatory, and Loki shudders as the ribbons of lust curling in the pit of his stomach burn hotter underneath his skin. "I have seen you, once, with her. Loving her inside you."

Loki's eyes widen as Thor presses him down into the sheets again. "I unfortunately do not sleep quite so soundly as that, dearest," Thor says with a slight laugh in his voice. "Next time, I would do that to you what you have done."

Loki grins helplessly into the pillows as Thor rolls him back over, presses love bites into the hollow of his shoulder blades, and begins to pound into him once more.


	30. Sobremesa

Written to: Mountain Sound - Of Monsters and Men, crosspost from AO3, referencing one of my other stories: Haze, in which dragon's heart and mermaid hair has been replaced by commonplace spaghetti and meatballs, and Loki cannot tell the difference.

* * *

_**Sobremesa: **the time spent around the table after lunch or dinner, talking to the people you shared the meal with; time to digest and savor both food and friendship._

"You Midgardians have gotten more sophisticated," Loki tells Steve nonchalantly after Jarvis clears the dishes away from the dinner table. The Avengers (well, really, it was mostly Steve) had asked Loki to come have a meal with them, as a toast to their tentative alliance (and really, Steve just wanted to see Modi again, and was currently tickling him under the chin as he sat in his high chair and banged his fists on his little plastic tray).

"What do you mean by that?" Steve asks, making faces at Modi, who looks at him curiously for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and imitating the face back at him. Steve is absolutely fascinated by Modi making tiny little duck faces at him, and Loki vaguely wonders if Steve is really just that entranced by Modi, or if Modi is somehow harnessing his undeveloped seidr to take control of Steve's mind. Loki isn't sure which one he'd prefer.

"You dine on dragon's heart and mermaid's hair as well," Loki says. Steve looks across at him, opens his mouth to tell him otherwise, before catching Thor making frantic gestures at him from across the table, complete with drawing his hand across his throat and making a motion to zip his mouth shut and toss the key away.

"I love the spice you added to it," Loki continues. "Something to add a hint of freshness. Normally I do not eat so carnally, but I must admit, dragon's heart is quite a lovely delicacy in Asgard. I am glad that you have decided to study up on Asgardian culture. Perhaps you Midgardians are not as ignorant as you seem."

Steve just stares at Thor, who has his hands clasped together and is silently begging Steve not to say anything.

Steve shrugs. "A bit of parsley, some basil. It adds a depth of flavour to the spa - dragon's heart."

"I quite agree," Loki says, examining his nails for dirt.

Clint rolls his eyes from his spot three seats down from Loki, mutters to Natasha under his breath about how stupid Loki is, not being able to recognise spaghetti and meatballs. Unfortunately, Loki has unnaturally sharp ears, and he glares down the table at Clint, whom Thor is staring in horror at.

Natasha catches them staring, smacks Clint on the arm, and cheerfully tells Loki that Clint had had a bit too much to drink and didn't know what he was saying. Loki seems to accept this, with a little huff and a roll of his eyes, and proceeds to completely forget about the incident once Pepper carries in a raspberry cheesecake.


	31. Agastopia

Written to: Anna Sun - Walk the Moon, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Agastopia: **Admiration of someone's body._

"These are all your fault, you know," Loki says as he looks at himself critically in the tall looking glass standing beside their armoire and rubs at the silvered stretch marks that still litter the creamy skin of his inner thighs. Thor, in the middle of unbuckling his armour, cannot help but stare at Loki's naked body.

Loki catches him staring over his shoulder, and grins impishly as he spreads his thighs a little further, inviting Thor to look and accidentally drop his breastplate onto the floor with a loud clang.

"Well, technically," Thor says, his mouth suddenly dry, "they are Modi's fault, not mine. I was not the one inside you and stretching out your skin."

Loki arches an eyebrow at him. "No? I seem to recall it quite differently during my cycle. Alas, how am I to know the truth? Events during that time are very like to be all skewed with heat and lust."

Thor swallows roughly, his eyes sketching across the planes and slender curves of Loki's long body, tracing each and every stretch mark with a burning gaze that has heat coiling and tingling at the base of Loki's spine.

"Perhaps," Thor says roughly, his voice husky, his eyes dilated, "I might be able to remind you of what exactly transpired during that time. To help your memory, of course."

"It would be a sad thing to forget," Loki muses, and in the dim reflection of the mirror, Thor can see Loki's cock begin to stiffen against his thigh, can see a light flush creeping across Loki's chest, and longs for nothing more than to lay his mouth on soft, sweet skin and suck and bite and lick.

"Most definitely," he agrees. "It would truly be a shame if you were not to remember it."

Loki grins, the curve of his mouth gleaming in the mirror as Thor steps hurriedly out of his trousers and reaches out for him.


	32. Ustulation

Written to: Love in a Box - The Workday Release, crosspost from AO3.

* * *

_**Ustulation: **a burning lust._

"I look like a zebra, for all the stripes I have," Loki laughs as Thor rolls him onto the bed and spreads his thighs, mouthing at the silvery scars on the soft skin he finds between them. Loki curls his fingers through Thor's hair, tugs his head in a silent plea to press kisses higher, higher, higher.

Thor grins as he presses a tiny kiss to the very tip of Loki's erection, which twitches in interest and elicits a soft whimper.

"You are a very fierce zebra, then, love," Thor remarks as he drags himself up, pinning Loki's wrists above his head with one strong hand. "Your legs certainly are strong enough to pin me between them, to kick me out of bed and drag the blankets away from me if you are feeling particularly cold in your dreams."

Loki's giggle quickly dissolves into a muffled moan as Thor kisses him, his tongue dancing around Loki's teeth and stroking against Loki's. Thor's other hand quickly snakes between their bodies, wraps firmly around Loki's cock, and begins to stroke gently at the head, which weeps out clear, sticky fluid onto the pad of his finger. Loki groans into the kiss, and when Thor pulls away, he watches with dilated eyes as Thor presses his thumb into his mouth, rolls it around his tongue, tasting.

"Watch," Thor murmurs softly, as he dips back down between Loki's scarred thighs again and envelops Loki's cock in his mouth. Loki has to bite down harshly on his lower lip to stop his scream, and he tastes blood as Thor sucks him down all the way to the base and swallows. As Thor's throat flutters around the head of Loki's cock, Loki shudders and writhes and somehow manages to shakily maintain Thor's gaze even as Thor hums and shatters his vision in streaks of white.

* * *

Later that night, as Thor is gently massaging Loki's aching hips and Loki is already dozing off, sated and exhausted, Thor takes note of the silvery, rapidly drying streaks of semen littering Loki's inner thighs.

He admires them, traces them tentatively with the tip of a finger, and grins helplessly as Loki twitches and giggles breathlessly in his sleep, muttering something about being ticklish. He winces as he shifts to pop a kink in his back, feels the long, shallow scratches that Loki had inflicted on his back in his throes of pleasure reopen and sting.

Thor looks up at Loki, whose mouth is slightly open, pink lips swollen and parted to reveal just a hint of sharp white teeth, reaches a hand up to his neck to feel the bruises swelling from where Loki had bit down to muffle his cries.

Thor grins as Loki's eyes twitch underneath his closed eyelids, his long lashes casting shadows across his cheeks in the flickering candlelight, and privately thinks to himself that Loki is more like a tiger.


	33. Sapiosexual

Written to: Hello Seattle - Owl City, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Sapiosexual: **One who is attracted to or aroused by intelligence in others. _

Over the millennia, Loki's tried time and again to educate Thor on the finer points of etiquette and culture. Was it really so much to ask for him to chew with his mouth closed every once in a while, or to pick up a book once every other century? Was that really such a big demand? Loki knew he was demanding, but he didn't think this was such a big deal to ask.

Thor, of course, would attempt to listen to Loki while he was trying to educate him, but then he would in a few hours' time go back to stabbing huge slabs of steak with a knife before popping it in his mouth. Loki would glare at him from across the table (and Thor would completely ignore him, having perfected that art about 50 years into their relationship) and go back to cutting his meat into perfectly bite-sized portions. Thor would argue that the blocks of steak he was consuming were also bite-sized, depending on how one looked at it, and Loki would just sigh in exasperation and rub at his temples.

So the evening that Thor comes into the bedchambers after putting Modi to bed and proceeds to recite a Shakespearean sonnet comes as nothing less than an extraordinary surprise. Loki has to go over and pinch him and make sure that he is indeed real.

Thor grins at him, and Loki thinks he detects a slight sparkle about his mouth, but quickly decides that must just be the flickering candlelight as Thor begins to speak:

"Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

Loki swallows roughly, quickly helps Thor unbuckle his breastplate, and hurriedly rushes him to the bed.

* * *

The next morning, when Loki wakes, Thor is snoring barbarically beside him and he can feel a delicious soreness deep in his bones. In the cool light of early morning, he rubs his fingers across Thor's lips, detects the faintest traces of a seidr that he does not know.

Frowning, he gathers a robe around him and pads off in the direction of the nursery.

When he enters, Modi looks up at him impishly (and Loki wonders if this is how Thor feels when Loki gives him the same look) and gives him a little, toothless smile.


	34. Sweven

Written to Swimming in the Flood - Passion Pit, crosspost from AO3.

* * *

_**Sweven: **A vision seen in sleep; a dream. _

Tony doesn't like to tell anybody about it, but he and Pepper both know why he sometimes wakes up flailing and gasping for air in the middle of the night. They both know that sometimes he has dreams of being back in the Middle East, gasping for air that was mostly dust while he tinkers with too-small screws and cogs and tries to save himself. They both know that he doesn't always succeed, and that is when he wakes up with a scream lodged halfway in his throat and has to slap himself to make sure that he is alive, that he is real, that it was just a nightmare.

Pepper often spends those nights awake beside him, stroking over his thumb with her own, whispering to him under the covers that it's alright, she's here, he's here, it's alright. Tony, for his part, spends the remainder of the night tracing her features with his eyes, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears, and repeating silently to himself things that he knows for a fact to be true.

One night, Tony wakes her up with laughter, and she stares at him curiously. He giggles in his sleep, says something that she can't quite understand, babbles to himself. Once or twice she thinks she catches her name thrown somewhere in there, but she isn't sure.

She hugs a pillow to her chest and watches him laugh himself back into deep slumber, and there is the slightest hint of a smile on her face as she, too, falls back to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, when she wakes up, Tony is sitting up in bed, a tray table on his lap littered with toast crumbs and small, empty containers of marmalade. He sips a cup of coffee (black, no sugar, and Pepper takes in the rich aroma with a sigh and a smile) and scratches behind his ear with a pencil as he frowns over some documents, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"Hey, you," he says, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, a grin sparking across his mouth for the briefest of moments before he goes back to looking at the papers in his hands.

"Hey," she says, languidly stretching and snuggling into the sheets. "You woke me up last night."

"I did?" Tony asks, arching a brow at her.

"You did," she affirms. "You were laughing. Nothing insane or demonic, that would have been terrifying. You sounded happy. Must have been a good dream. I think you might have been talking to me?"

Tony grins, sets down the papers and reaches over to pinch her cheek. "I'm always happy when I talk to you," he says. "Unless, of course, it's when you're trying to make me do work. That's not very happy conversation, you must admit."

Pepper laughs. "Tell me what your dream was about?"

Tony furrows his brow, pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to remember. "I think...I think I dreamt about having a kid," he says slowly after a few moments. "I was teaching him - I think it was a him, it wasn't wearing a dress, but then again you can never tell - some basic chemistry in the lab downstairs. I think you came in after a while, and you were carrying something...a snack, maybe? And we both shouted at you that you weren't supposed to bring food into the laboratory, that it wasn't safe with all those chemicals floating around. I dunno. It was cute."

Pepper stifles a grin into the curve of her hand as she thinks about the best way in which to tell Tony of the positive stick hidden in her bottom desk drawer.


	35. Heliophilia

Written to: The River - Imagine Dragons, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Heliophilia: **Desire to stay in the sun; a love of sunlight._

"Aw, don't be like that," Darcy says, trying to hold in a giggle as Helblindi pouts at himself in her floor-length mirror. It had been a lovely, hot summer day in New York, and unfortunately, Helblindi did have rather delicate skin, as he was wont to remind Darcy at every possible moment.

He'd let his glamour fade a little bit, and he examines his patchy blue and violet skin with a frown that reminds Darcy of Loki. He prods one of the purple patches with a tentative finger, hisses a bit as it stings and burns.

"How is it that you are not burnt?" he questions her, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "You Midgardians are so fragile, how is it that you have not burnt away to a crisp by now?"

Darcy laughs, steps around him to rifle through her bathroom's medicine cabinet for a tube of aloe vera.

"Here. This will help," she says, handing it to him. He takes the tube of lotion from her, pops it open with a little frown, and begins slathering it over his face. Darcy squeezes a blob of the gel into her hands and reaches up on tiptoe to rub it into the back of his neck.

"I dunno," she muses. "I guess I'm just used to it. I bet it doesn't get very hot back home. You know, you being a frost prince and all."

Helblindi snorts, as if that were the understatement of the millennia. "Perhaps," he admits. "I haven't been out of Jotunheimr often. It's only been recently, because I have been visiting you."

Darcy blushes and hides her grin behind Helblindi's back.

* * *

"Come oooonnnnn," Darcy whines, tugging at Helblindi's hand. He's all bundled up like he is ready for a blizzard, and only an inch of skin is showing between his scarf and sunglasses. "You're going to melt if you go outside like that. And the sun wants to see you!"

Helblindi only shakes his head firmly, and tells her, in a muffled voice, that the sun is not his friend, that in fact, they are the worst of enemies.

Darcy rolls her eyes and pushes him back into her apartment, insists that he definitely cannot go out like that, he will embarrass her and probably frighten small children. Helblindi eyes her for a moment behind his sunglasses before carefully unwinding his scarf and unbuttoning his coat as she putters around in her bathroom, opening and closing cabinets.

She returns with a another bottle of lotion in her hand, and Helblindi just barely has a chance to catch a glimpse of the number "45" emblazoned in colourful, blue font before Darcy commands him to close his eyes. He obliges, and she rubs the lotion into his skin.

"All done," she tells him after a few minutes, when she has finished emptying the contents of the bottle over his arms and legs and neck. He stands up, feeling oily and slippery and sticky. "Come on, let's go, I said I'd take you to the state fair."

He reaches out for the coat again, but she shoots him a look that Helblindi would have been proud of if he hadn't been so suddenly cowed. "Leave the coat. And the sunglasses. And the scarf."

* * *

They spend the day walking around, holding hands, eating all manner of greasy food and playing trivial games (Helblindi really could not understand the difficulty in knocking down three metal bottles); at the end of the day, when he finally unfolds himself beside her in her bed, much to his surprise, he finds that it doesn't hurt at all.


	36. Dépaysement

Written to: Someday - The Strokes, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Dépaysement: **When someone is taken out of their own familiar world into a new one._

Laufey is nothing short of delighted when Loki comes bustling through the door of the ice palace, blowing snow out of his eyes and cradling what looks like a huge bundle of blankets in the protective circle of his arms. Laufey is nothing short of disgusted when Thor follows him a moment later, shaking snow and ice out of his travelling cloak like a giant wet dog and spraying the foyer with melting puddles of cold.

"Darling, we're so glad you could make it!" Farbauti exclaims with a huge smile on her face as she comes forward, holding out her arms to envelope Loki and Modi - who really could not understand why his mama felt it necessary to bundle him up in nothing short of ten fleece blankets - in a hug. Pulling back, she pinches Loki's cheeks with a smile, grins up at Thor in an impish manner that he is all too familiar with, and greets him as well.

Modi waves a little fist around in the air, trying to grab at Farbauti's hand, and Loki gladly hands him over to his mother as he bends over to unlace his boots.

"Your first visit to Jotunheimr," Laufey says, looking at Modi over Farbauti's shoulder. "How do you like it here, little prince? Is it too cold for your liking?"

Modi babbles up at him unintelligibly, and Laufey laughs, nods in understanding as if Modi and he are having some deep conversation on Jotunheimr's frosty climate. Modi opens and closes his hands like tiny starfish, trying to grasp at the little snowflakes that seem to constantly float down from the ice palace's upper floors, examines his hands curiously when the snowflakes melt upon contact with his fingers.

"Oh, yes," Farbauti says, looking up to the castle's upper floors. "Your brothers have been engaging in some...rather explicit activities, and so are rather indisposed," she tells Loki, who is brushing his shoulders off. "Byleistr is rather infatuated with that doppelganger you sent over. And Helblindi...I believe he is seeing a Midgardian woman? Oh, what was her name?" She taps her cheek, trying to remember, while Modi squeals in delight and grabs at the dangling ice bracelets on her wrists, pouting when they do not come off or make amusing noises or melt in his hands.

"Darcy?" Loki supplies, and Thor just goggles at him in surprise and disbelief. Surely he couldn't mean that Darcy, not the one that was friends with Lady Jane. Surely not.

"That's right!" Farbauti says, smiling benevolently down at Modi, who babbled up at her as if to complain about the lack of amusement provided by her sparkly jewelry. "Darcy Lewis. Helblindi seems to like her very much. He's visited Midgard so much, he's started to turn purple! But come, now, you must be famished. You've gotten so thin, are you sure you're eating properly?"

Farbauti continues this babble as she begins to walk with Loki towards the ice castle's dining hall, catching him up on Jotunheimr current events, and Thor makes a move to follow before Laufey clears his throat.

"Ahem," Laufey says, more of a snarl than a statement, glaring down at Thor's feet. "It would...benefit you not to track water and ice all over my halls."

Thor glares at him, glares pointedly up at the snowdrifts still sprinkling down from the ceiling before bending down and unlacing his boots.


	37. Agelast

Written to: Tokyo - Imagine Dragons, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Agelast: **Someone who never laughs._

Odin is not particularly amused when Frigga unceremoniously dumps Modi into his lap and commands him to spend some quality time with his grandson while she prepares a bottle for him. It had been centuries since he'd been face to face with a real, live babe, and this was somewhat of a discomforting experience for him. Modi, on the other hand, didn't show any signs of distress, not even when Odin eyed him with his one good eye with a look that would have made most grown men cower in fear.

He simply babbles up at Odin unintelligibly, and when Odin looks up across the throne room to see if there are any other people in the throne room that might possibly be coerced into taking care of him, Modi takes a great fistful of beard and tugs. When Odin looks down at him with a disgruntled look on his face, Modi smiles brightly up at him and continues talking in a language that Odin cannot understand.

"I must say, you are quite the chatterbox," Odin comments, and Modi tilts his head to one side, staring up at him with huge blue eyes that remind Odin so much of Thor as a child. "You probably get that from Loki, don't you? Thor was never quite so...talkative."

In Odin's memory, Thor as a toddler had been quite apt to picking up tables and chairs and throwing them across the room before looking back at Odin and Frigga and clapping his tiny hands in delight. Modi, on the other hand, seemed more than content to just sit quietly in Odin's lap and play with his beard and anything shiny that was in his reach (including but not limited to the arms of the throne, Odin's sceptre, and his eyepatch).

"Boo!" Modi shouts at him when Odin once again lets his attention drift, and Odin snaps his gaze back to the baby in his lap, astonished by the volume the tiny bundle he held could produce. "Boo?" Modi questions, a little bit softer as he meets Odin's stare with his own.

"Boo? Do you find me frightening?" Odin asks. "I am your grandfather. That means I'm your father's father. And I guess your mother's father, too. Never mind. Perhaps it is better if Loki explains it to you, I am not good at these things."

Modi concentrates very hard, and far off in the distance Odin can hear Thor slamming Mjolnir around the training grounds, accompanied with loud cracks of thunder. After one particularly loud clap, Modi squeals with laughter and shrieks, "Boo!" as if he is imitating the noises outside. Against Odin's better wishes, he can feel a corner of his mouth tilting up in a smile.

Frigga comes back a few minutes later, a fresh bottle for Modi in her hands, and is astonished to find her husband laughing and tickling Modi with his beard.


	38. Sabaism

Written to: Intro - The Xx, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Sabaism/Sabaeanism: **The worship of stars._

Thor finds Loki and Modi lying outside one cool spring night, staring up at the dark velvet of the nighttime sky all studded with starry jewels. Modi's eyes track the progress of a meteor or a shooting star or some other cosmic object as it streaks across the sky, and Thor can see its reflection in his son's delighted gaze.

Loki, his head pillowed on one of his arms, points up at the different constellations and picks out shapes in the sky that Thor can only see after he watches Loki carve it out. He tells Modi about the constellations and the stories, tells Modi tales of gods that Thor has never heard of; of Orion and his belt of three stars, how he liked to hunt across the cosmos for magnificent animals; of Cassiopeia, the queen of Aethiopia, who was put into the sky as a punishment for boastfulness; of the many-headed monster called the Hydra, who grew more heads when one was chopped off. Modi listens with interest, and Thor wonders if he can understand what Loki is saying beyond the melodic flow and ebbs of the syllables that slip past his tongue.

He can just make out the faint curve of a smile on Loki's face as he lies himself carefully down beside him, can feel the grin widen against his shoulder as he wriggles a strong arm underneath Loki and curls him to his chest.

"Perhaps one day, your papa will have a constellation just for himself," Loki tells Modi, splaying his fingers against Thor's broad chest. "So that all the realms may know him."

Loki laughs. "I say that as if all the realms have not heard of you," he teases Thor. "You are quite loud. Your voice rings from Asgard all the way to Svartalfheim and makes Malekith punch his pillows in anger because he cannot sleep for all your roaring."

"I would imagine I might get quite lonely among the stars," Thor comments, running his fingers through Loki's silky hair. "It would not be a pleasurable experience unless you and Modi were also there, and preferably not legions away in the sky. The sky is very vast."

Loki snorts at this obvious statement. "It is indeed," he agrees. "Fortunately, I do not believe either of us have warranted a punishment so great as to be banished to the skies. Not yet, at least."

Thor traces the swell of Loki's lower lip with his thumb, remembering a time when he would feel stitches along the plump flesh. Loki remembers, too, if the expression on his face is anything to go by.

Loki opens his mouth, as though he wants to say something, and Thor wonders if it will be a long overdue explanation for the incident leading up to the stitches. Loki closes his mouth after a few moments, silent, and Thor decides that Loki will tell him eventually, decides not to press the matter, and tracks the progress of shooting stars held in the reflection of Loki's eyes.


	39. Logomachy

Written to: Every Night - Imagine Dragons, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Logomachy: **An argument over words. _

"It was a very silly quarrel," Loki admits as he lies with his head pillowed on Thor's chest a few weeks later. Thor wonders what he is talking about, runs his fingers through Loki's hair and waits patiently.

"I'd made a bet with some dwarves from Nidavellir. I don't really remember what it was about. It was many millennia ago, and I was still rather young and reckless."

"You are still young and reckless, my love," Thor reminds him, smiling as he feels Loki's mouth stretch into a grin against his flesh.

"I lost. I know, it is rather difficult to imagine, isn't it? Me losing a bet? But that is most likely because I am always able to coerce you into thinking that I did not lose anything at all."

"Yes, you are," Thor agrees. "You are rather clever in that regard, and you are quite adept at making me believe I have done something wrong when in fact I have done nothing of the sort as a way to convince me to love you more even if I am already tired."

He nudges Loki between the thighs with a knee, laughs deep and throaty as he feels Loki's cock twitch slightly with interest and hears a slight hiss of breath from between Loki's teeth.

"As their prize, they wanted my head," Loki continues, rolling over so that he is seated firmly in the cradle of Thor's hips, their cocks nestling together hot and velvety. "And of course I had no problem giving that up, why would I? But I told them they most definitely could take my neck with it."

He takes both of their cocks in his hand, begins to stroke and pump. Thor watches in fascination as Loki's long, elegant fingers wrap around both their flesh and drags upwards in delightfully sinful motions.

"And who is to say where my neck ends and where my head begins?" Loki asks nonchalantly. "In the end, they could not agree on where one was to stop and the other was to begin, so they decided to stitch my mouth shut for playing with words. That was quite possibly the worst punishment I have ever endured."

"It was quite tragic," Thor murmurs, entranced by Loki's thumb worrying at the head of his cock. "I missed your voice for many years, silvered as it was."

Loki sighs, a throaty moan spilling from his throat as he rocks himself forwards, leaking sticky fluid onto his fingers. "Your head and neck are far too close to each other for proper distinction," Thor says, leaning forwards and pressing rough kisses to the underside of Loki's jaw. He wraps a broad hand around Loki's fingers, encourages him to pump faster and rougher, drawing soft cries from Loki's mouth.

Loki wriggles his hand out from underneath Thor's, places it on the back of Thor's neck and pulls him forward for a kiss. Thor smiles mischievously, pulls his hand back so his fingers are mostly wrapped around his own flesh, and Loki opens green eyes dilated with want and lust and pouts at him.

"Don't do that," he begs breathlessly, and Thor catches his wandering hands with his free hand. "Me too, this isn't fair," he whines, but if anyone asked, he most definitely hadn't been whining.

"Who is to say where you end and I begin?" Thor asks, nibbling tenderly at Loki's bottom lip. Loki draws back, looks at him incredulously, and threatens Thor that he would stitch his cock shut if he didn't continue, right this very instant. Thor laughs at Loki's empty threat, and obliges.


	40. Carriwitchet

Written to: The Great Escape - Boys Like Girls, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Carriwitchet: **a pun or a paradox; a riddling question._

"Loki, a Midgardian child has told me the most amusing of riddles," Thor says as he walks into their bed chambers after a long day of show and tell, during which he had been coerced (and threatened, although he was not quite sure) into taking several Midgardian school children on flights with Mjolnir.

"What was it?" Loki asks, not looking up from his spellbook. Knowing Thor, he was sure it would be some completely silly question.

"Why did the chicken cross the road?" Thor repeats, settling himself on the bed beside Loki and squinting at the spell book, which is filled with runes and characters that he can never hope to decipher but which Loki seems to be able to read with ease.

Loki sighs, shoots Thor a long-suffering glance. "Why?" he asks, if only to indulge Thor.

"To get to your house."

Loki quirks an eyebrow at him, rolls his eyes and proceeds to turn back to the spellbook, but Thor touches his arm.

"The riddle is not yet finished, love," he says. "I believe it is two parts. Knock knock."

Loki groans, rubbing his temples. "Who's there?" he mutters.

"The chicken!" Thor bursts out into a huge fit of laughter, great barks of merriment that make the mattress shake underneath Loki. Loki just stares at Thor in disbelief, and shakes his head at his husband's simplemindedness.

"That is not a riddle, you fool," Loki says, and Thor props himself up on one elbow, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, and asks Loki to put a question to him.

Loki taps his fingers against his chin, thinking.

"Alright. Assume you have a bag of grain, a chicken, and a fox, and you want to cross a river."

"I can fly across the river," Thor says, looking at him in confusion. Loki sighs.

"You have to use a boat to get across this particular river," he clarifies. "Now stop interrupting and let me finish. Your boat is only large enough to take you and one other thing across the river at a time."

Thor mutters something along the lines of "inefficiency," and "how I would never build a boat that small."

"You cannot have the chicken and the grain on the same side of the river unattended, because the chicken will eat the grain. The fox and the chicken cannot be on the same side of the river unattended, because the fox will eat the chicken. So how would you propose to get all three things across the river?"

Loki can almost hear the wheels in Thor's head clicking around slowly as he mulls over this information, can see the frustrated squint of his husband's eyes as he strokes at his beard and thinks. Loki, satisfied that he may have a few more minutes of peace, goes back to reading.

He is rudely interrupted a few moments later, when Thor taps at his knee and asks him if he himself can eat the chicken. Loki only sighs in exasperation, and swats Thor over the head lightly with the back of his book.


	41. Dysania

Written to: Turn Me On - David Guetta ft. Nicki Minaj, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Dysania: **Finding it extremely hard to get out of bed in the morning._

"Do you intend to sleep the whole day away?" Thor asks, nudging Loki's side with his knee gently. Loki mutters something that Thor is sure is to the effect of telling Thor to go away and leave him be, and to be true, the sun has not yet risen over the distant mountains, but Thor had woken up wanting, and Thor eagerly wished for Loki to hurry and wake up already so they could have some enjoyment before Modi were to wake up and demand all their attention.

"Loki," Thor whines, nudging at Loki's shoulder with his forehead. Loki groans, stretches, before rolling over onto his back and turning his face away from Thor.

Thor frowns, taps his chin in thought. Loki's nightshirt has ridden up, exposing the taut lines and muscles of his abdomen, exposing the delicate hollows of skin stretched over his hip bones, and Thor grins as a thought begins to blossom in his mind.

Loki sighs, his breath stuttering as Thor tugs his pyjama bottoms down, wraps a few careful fingers around Loki, but Loki does not wake. Thor smiles gleefully and pushes up Loki's shirt farther, mouthing gentle kisses and sucks to soft, dusky nipples as he continues to stroke with his other hand. Loki twitches underneath him, and, much to his delight, Thor can feel Loki hardening in his palm.

Loki opens his eyes, startled out of sleep as Thor strokes up, rolls his wrist in a circular motion that causes pleasure to jolt up Loki's spine.

"What are you doing?" he gasps, propping himself up on an elbow and biting his lip at the sordid sight it presented him. Thor only smiled, more innocently than he had any right to, and bent down to envelop Loki's erection in his mouth.

* * *

"Do you intend to sleep the whole day away?" Loki asks, nudging Thor's side with his knee gently.

Thor had fallen back asleep after pounding Loki into the bedsheets, and Loki could still feel the delicious ache in his hips, could still feel the stickiness between his thighs as the sun crept across the sky.

Thor mutters something that Loki is sure is to the effect of telling Loki to go away and leave him be, and rolls over onto his stomach, clutching a pillow to his chest.


	42. Desenrascanço

Written to: Time to Pretend - MGMT, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Desenrascanço: **The improvisation of haphazard but completely sound solutions or plans at the last minute._

Thor bounces Modi up and down in his lap as he sits in an armchair by the library fire, waiting patiently for Loki to finish up a book so that they can go on a picnic. Loki had assured him thirty minutes ago that he would be finished quickly, but Thor is beginning to question what Loki's definition of quickly is.

Loki sighs, stretches with a groan, and stands up, tells Thor that he will just use the bathroom and then they can set off. Thor smiles, and Modi claps his little hands in delight, spilling droplets of milk from his bottle everywhere, at the prospect of finally getting to go outside. Thor picks Modi up and goes over to look at the book Loki was reading as Loki exits the library.

He can barely make heads or tails of it, and he assumes it must be one of those fantastically difficult spell tomes Loki is prone to reading. Modi, for his part, is not interested at all in the strange runes and characters inscribed upon the pages, and babbles something that Thor cannot understand before promptly tossing his bottle onto the book.

Thor watches, aghast, as the milk seeps into the pages, and Modi laughs, a laugh that sounds completely like Loki, and Thor racks his brains desperately while he swipes at the pages with his sleeve and tries to dry it a bit. His efforts are futile, and he can hear Loki washing up in their bathroom.

"You little imp," Thor hisses to Modi, who just sticks his thumb in his mouth and gives Thor a look, like he is daring Thor to punish him. "Exactly like your mother, you are."

As Loki calls out from the hallway that he is ready, Thor hurriedly slips the book jacket off, slams the spellbook closed, and shoves the naked volume back into a shelf. He selects another equally thick book at random from a shelf and quickly slides the jacket on it just as Loki steps through the door.

* * *

Loki, for his part, is incredibly perplexed two days later, when he opens the book again and finds instead a very detailed account of oral intercourse.


	43. Psithurism

Written to: Superman - Five For Fighting, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Psithurism: **The sound of wind through trees._

"What are you thinking about?" Farbauti asks, tracing absentminded swirls and patterns on Laufey's chest while they listen to the howling winds outside, slightly muffled by the icy walls of their palace. "I have never seen you so contemplative, except in times of war. You...are certainly not planning to go to war, again?"

Laufey looks at her, feels a bit of regret that she had only given her quirky mouth and expressive eyes to one of their sons.

"No," he says after a long moment. "I have no plans to go to war in the near future."

"Then why does your brow furrow so?" she asks, reaching up to rub at the furrow between his eyebrows. "Do you hurt somewhere?"

"I was just thinking about Helblindi," he explains. "Him and that Midgardian woman."

"Do you not approve?" Farbauti questions, sitting up; Laufey admires the soft curves of her legs and back as she goes over to the window and draws back the curtains a bit, to let the soft grey light of the storm in. From the bed, Laufey can see great trees on far off mountains bending in acquiescence to the howling gale.

"It is not that I don't approve. She is a very nice woman, I think. She reminds me of you; sassy, bold, determined."

"Then what is the problem?"

"She will not live forever, Farbauti. Helblindi must know this, too. I am afraid that he will not love her as much as he could have, not to the fullest, because he knows he will have to say good-bye one day."

Farbauti turns back to him, her face shadowed in profile, but he can still feel her searching gaze on him.

"It is an interesting thought," she agrees as she returns to their bed, burrowing into the blankets and curling herself against him. "Midgardians do not live very long, less than a century. We have millennia. This Darcy woman may not even be the one Helblindi is destined to be with for the rest of his life."

"What if she is?" Laufey asks, rolling over to look at Farbauti. "What if she is?"

Laufey drifts off to sleep a few minutes later, his brow still furrowed in thought, and Farbauti looks up at the ceiling in silence, thinking, while the storm rages outside.


	44. Tacenda

Written to: Levels - Avicii, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Tacenda: **Things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence._

Thor doesn't ask Loki what he did when he went to Midgard a few days ago. Loki had mumbled something about Darcy inviting him to something called a 'rager;' Thor had absolutely no idea what that was, and in fact, he'd asked Loki if he was even capable of summoning enough anger to go berserk. Loki had given him a look that said he was perfectly capable of doing anything, that he was Loki and could do whatever the hell he wanted but Thor was completely missing the point, and Thor had wisely decided not to follow that particular route of conversation any longer.

Thor does have to ask, though, when he pushes Loki's shirt up a few days later and sees twin glints of silver and gold adorning Loki's nipples.

"What are these?" he asks, completely dumbfounded, as he flicks one and Loki shivers.

"Piercings, I suppose," Loki mutters, arching his hips up into Thor's chest and hoping he would take the hint; Thor was hopelessly fascinated by the jewelry on Loki's chest, however, and continued to roll the metal between his fingers.

"Have you always had these?" Thor wants to know, pressing kisses to Loki's chest and tasting metal and the sweetness of Loki's skin. Loki sighs, rolls his hips up, and Thor can feel him pressing against his ribs.

"I was…rather inebriated when I went to that gathering with Darcy a few days ago," Loki admits, and if anyone asked him, he most definitely had not whined as Thor wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked. The piercings had made the flesh all the more sensitive, even though it had healed rather rapidly.

"Where did you get them?" Thor asks, and Loki is sure by now his nipples are bitten red. "Did they hurt very much?"

"Can we not talk about this any more?" Loki asks, pressing up more insistently against Thor's ribs, and Thor only grins and finally, finally moves his hands down to slip Loki's cotton pyjamas off his legs.

* * *

Thor is a mixture of surprised, amused, aroused, and jealous when he tugs down Loki's pyjama pants and finds Loki has a vagina, and that Loki has pierced that as well.

Loki stubbornly refuses to tell him who did it, and so Thor can only settle for licking at his pierced clitoris and enjoying the desperate, frantic twitches of Loki's hips underneath him.


	45. Jaaneman

Written to: I Want You - Savage Garden, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Jaaneman: **Literally, "soul of me." A gender-neutral word for sweetheart or darling._

"What do you think, tiny one?" Thor asks Modi. Modi, who has only recently begun to sit up by himself, pays no attention to his father and instead goes back to banging differently shaped blocks into holes in a tray. "What ought we to get your mama for his birthday?"

Modi babbles something at him, and the tone of voice he uses is so like Loki that Thor cannot help but smile and reach over to cuddle his son, who squirms as he tries to get away and shove a trapezoid into the tray table.

"Do you have any idea?" Thor asks, and Modi just gives him a look as if to remind Thor firmly that his place of present importance is far below that of the yellow pyramid he holds in his hands.

Modi bangs a blue sphere onto the table while Thor watches, tries to shove it into a square hole; the circular hole in the tray has been currently blocked up by the yellow pyramid.

"Modi, love, the sphere is supposed to go in the circle," Thor explains, reaching over to try to help; Modi swats his hand away, losing his own balance in the process and toppling over onto Jörmungandr, who hisses at him and indicates that he is not the least bit amused. Modi pushes himself back up using Jörmungandr's neck as a brace; the baby serpent unhinges his jaw and bites ineffectively at Modi's arm, but Modi just shakes him off and Jory coils up into a little circle on the ground, glaring at him with beady eyes.

Loki comes in with a tray of snacks: slices of apples from Idunn's garden for himself and Thor, what looks to be like mouse-shaped gummies for Jory, and a bottle for Modi.

"Modi, darling," he says, setting the tray down and reaching over. "The blue sphere goes in the circle hole, see, because the pyramid likes to go in the triangle."

Modi shoots him a glare that Loki himself finds he is irrationally proud of before slapping Loki's hand away and falling over onto Jory again. Jory, much too preoccupied with chewing on the gummies, doesn't even hiss at Modi as Modi grabs at his tail to push himself back up again.

Thor wraps an arm around Loki and presses a kiss to his lips, tasting the sweet burst of apple in his mouth with a smile.


	46. Oubliette

Written to: Thursday - Takenobu, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Oubliette: **A dungeon with a door only in the ceiling; a place you put people to forget about them._

"This is a rather tragic place," Thor comments as he holds Loki's hand and looks at a spitting, hissing Malekith behind an invisible force field deep in the dungeons of Asgard.

Loki shrugs. "Surely it cannot be much too different for him; from what I recall, Svartalfheim is much like this. Miserable and boring."

Sif had caught Malekith not only a few hours ago, prodding and poking around Idunn's orchards and leaving a trail of gnawed apple cores behind him. The Dark Elf had eaten himself sick and Idunn had eyed him with disapproval before summoning a few royal guards who poked and prodded him into the dungeons.

"I am not quite so sure that he is as bored as all that; the apples may have had some unexpected effects on him," Thor says, watching in disbelief as Malekith lies down on the cold stone floor and strips himself of his trousers, wraps a hand around himself and begins to stroke vigorously with a pace that Thor is amazed by.

Loki eyes the elf in disgust, ignores him when he starts to ask for Byleistr.

Loki takes Thor's hand, shuddering at the very idea, and wonders if there are any spells in the library that he can possibly use to wipe his memory. Thor, for his part, is seriously considering if there were any spells Loki knew that could make Malekith look like Thor; the clone Byleistr had been so infatuated with had recently decided to gain sentience and make a break for freedom and was now currently wandering around, hopelessly lost, in the frozen mists of Jotunheimr. Byleistr had been inconsolable and the flood of explicit and poorly worded love letters had begun to come for Thor in the post again, and even though there was usually no post on Sundays, Byleistr seemed to find a way.

He breaches the idea tentatively a few weeks later, when Loki has all but forgotten about Malekith deep beneath Asgard's floors. Loki gives him a look that cows Thor into silence again, and takes up a little plastic spoon to continue feeding Modi some mashed carrots.


	47. Callipygian

Written to: Daylight - Matt and Kim, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Callipygian: **Having shapely buttocks._

Thor wonders if it is just the thunder rumbling in him more than usual, or if Loki's bottom has become much more attractive than usual, or if it is a combination of the two. He finds himself hard pressed to stop staring as Loki glides past him at breakfast, finds his mouth goes dry too quickly as Loki bends over to fit Modi into his seat, finds that he cannot stop his eyes from tracing the smooth swell underneath Loki's robes.

"You seem particularly smitten with my backside," Loki observes one night after dinner is finished and he and Thor are safely ensconced in their chambers. "Has my front side not been so inviting recently?"

Thor stares at the outline of Loki's long legs underneath the thin white sheet, finds he cannot drag his eyes up any higher than the small of Loki's back.

"I do not know what it is, love," Thor admits, reaching up to Loki's shoulders and dragging down the sheets, sighing in pleasure as he feasts his eyes on the view afforded to him. "You have a very pleasing bottom to admire. It is so...well, my words fail me at the moment, but it is quite possibly one of the loveliest, if not the loveliest, bottom in all the realms."

Loki snorts, rolls his eyes. "I would think that I am the most gorgeous being in all the realms, thank you kindly, but I do suppose my bottom does make some contributions to that title. And as for your words failing you, that is nothing new; however, I think some words that might be good to describe it would be along the lines of firm, resilient, perky. Things like that."

Thor cannot help but agree, and gently palms one cheek before drawing back his hand and quickly slapping it. He admires the bright red handprint he leaves behind as Loki yelps, pushes himself up, and glares at Thor from around his shoulder.

"What was that for, you imbecile?" Loki snaps. "You certainly don't hit things you like, hasn't millennia taught you that?"

Thor eyes him carefully. "You like it," he points out. "And I like it."

Loki huffs in annoyance and tries to ignore the flush crawling across his cheeks. "That doesn't mean anything," he says, but as Thor draws his hand back and lays another great big print across Loki's other cheek, Loki finds tingles of arousal running up his spine, much to his horror and Thor's vast delight.

"You have a perfect bottom for spanking," Thor says. "I am quite grateful for it."

Loki rolls his eyes, pushes his hips back towards Thor for more, looks back when Thor doesn't continue. Thor is stroking his beard, thinking.

"If I have such a shapely bottom," Loki hisses, wiggling it at him and enjoying how Thor's gaze snaps instantly back to him, "how dare you ignore it? One would think you were a god, to have such self-control."

Thor laughs, pats Loki's bottom reassuringly.

"Do not worry, love," he says. "I was just wondering if you still had those dark, tight pants you and the Lady Darcy bought on Midgard. You know the ones I am talking about, the black ones that cling delightfully tight to your legs and waist?"

"What of them?" Loki wants to know.

"They make more of those pants on Midgard, yes?" Thor asks, pinning Loki to the bed. "I would wish to have you wear them and then rip them off you, but since this particular god does so enjoy the view they afford, it would be quite a shame if you would never be able to wear pants to that effect again."

Loki laughs and presses a kiss to Thor's mouth, telling him not to worry, America is obsessed with skinny jeans at the present moment, and Thor grins in relief before he commands Loki to go to the closet and put on the pants in question.


	48. Forelsket

Written to: Greeneries - Takenobu, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Forelsket: **The euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love._

Thor does not remember when it begun, when he began to look at Loki as more than just a friend, a playmate, someone to climb the trees of Idunn's gardens with when they weren't supposed to. He does not remember when he began to take notice of the curve of Loki's mouth, when the sparkle in Loki's smile began to dazzle him beyond belief, when the shade of Loki's blue skin began to be more than just a colour and instead became a wealth of mystery and icy places that Thor wanted to explore.

He supposes it began around sometime in the early 500s, and even that is just a rough estimate.

"Loki," he says one morning, when Loki is still clinging to his pillow and trying to ignore Thor so that he can slip back into dreams once again, "do you remember when we fell in love?"

Loki sighs, as if he finds the question irritating, but Thor prods him in the side and repeats himself. Loki cracks open one green eye, and Thor cannot help but smile.

"I did not fall in love," Loki mutters, and Thor can feel his heart skip several beats. "You pushed me, and suddenly I could not help but comply for gravity was dragging me down."

Thor smiles, threads his fingers through Loki's silky hair and strokes through it, combing it gently as Loki arches up into his hand with a soft sigh.

"We were not even grown," Loki says, his voice heavy with sleep, and Thor wonders if he is slipping back into slumber again. "The first time I can remember, I told you to fetch me a certain type of flower that grew high up in the hills of Asgard. And you complained, you said that if I wanted it I would have to go and get it myself, that there was no way in the nine realms that you were going to go all the way there just to pick a little plant."

Thor grins, as he remembers.

"I ended up going," he says, and he can see the corner of Loki's mouth tilt up in a smile. "I was gone for a few days, and when I returned back to Asgard, you had already gone back to Jotunheimr because the sleepover was...over, I suppose. Something to that effect."

"Yes," Loki agrees. "My parents wanted me back, they didn't want me being a burden to Frigga and Odin, though of course you can see where that's gotten us."

"I had to go to Jotunheimr all by myself, because nobody else wanted to go with me," Thor says, gently twirling a strand of Loki's fine hair around his fingers. "And of course nobody told me how bloody cold it would be, nor where the royal palace is in relation to anything. I got lost many times, and I was so angry at you that I swore to myself I would smack you over the head with Mjolnir the next time I saw you."

Loki laughs, his voice soft and clear. "I remember; you burst into the palace one day, your fingers and lips all blue, just like a jötunn's. Father was greatly displeased - he wasn't very startled, so I suppose he knew you were coming, wreaking havoc all across his kingdom - and perhaps he had counted on you to just fall down somewhere in the snow and curl up of frostbite or the like. You stumbled over to me, where I was reading a book, and slapped down this sad little withered stalk in between the pages."

"And it wasn't even the right one," Thor finishes for him, laughing.

"No," Loki says, turning his head to look at Thor, smiling. "It was not. But that was when I knew. That somehow, somewhere along the way, without me even watching, I could not help but be drawn to love you, like a plant raises its head to look up at the sun without knowing why it does."

Thor smiles, bending down to press a kiss to Loki's cheek.

"I never did find you that flower you wanted," he muses. "Perhaps I ought to try again."

Loki only smiles into his pillow and decides not to tell Thor about the little, black stem pressed between the pages of a book he keeps in his nightstand drawer.


	49. Raconteur

Written to: Mother Knows Best - Tangled (Disney OST), crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Raconteur: **A talented storyteller. _

Loki has a habit of telling his children bedtime stories that will ease them quickly into dreams; Thor, unfortunately, is not particularly adept at this area of parenting. Which is why, when Loki asks him if he could kindly put Modi and Jörmungandr to bed, Thor swallows uneasily and arms himself with a vast number of children's storybooks.

Modi looks up at him from his bassinet, his eyes crinkled in a smile that quickly disappears the instant he realises that it is not his mama come to tell him exciting adventures of princesses and knights and dragons, and in fact it is only his woefully ill-equipped papa, armed with boring, mundane stories about silly girls who had no business eating porridge that belonged to someone else. Jörmungandr eyes Thor beadily - though Thor wasn't sure if this was just something unique to him, the baby serpent had Loki's default way of looking at everyone in a condescending manner - and flicks his tongue at him, as if to shoo him away.

Thor sits down heavily next to Modi's cradle, sighs as he opens the first book, and begins to read while Loki bathes in the next room. Thor tries, really, truly he does, to emulate all the voices, makes a big show of displaying the colourful pictures inside the book to both Modi and Jory, but his small audience is clearly unamused by the story of Goldilocks, and so Thor decides to switch to Little Red Riding Hood instead.

Modi obviously didn't much enjoy that story either, though Loki had assured Thor it was Modi's favourite tale and would have him out like a light. The tiny baby decides he has had about enough of this mediocre storytelling right around the part where Little Red stops to pick flowers for her grandmother (and Jory privately thought that the little girl was rather simple, much like the blonde buffoon telling the story) and begins to wail. Thor sighs, rubs his temples as he hears the sounds of sloshing water from the next room stop altogether. Loki didn't much like having his baths interrupted, and surely Thor would not be hearing the end of it.

Loki pads into the nursery, a towel wrapped around his body and another around his hair, looks at Thor disapprovingly. Upon catching a glimpse of his mama, Modi reaches out to him with tiny hands, the smile readily appearing on his face again. Jory hisses in content, not that anyone could actually tell, and coils himself around a pillow, settling his head down and waiting for the real storytelling to begin.

"The children are not amused by me," Thor begins to explain, and Loki just rolls his eyes with a little smile as he leans over and closes the book on Thor's lap.

"Of course they aren't," Loki says, and Thor finds himself more interested in the slender black curl of hair that has managed to escape Loki's towel turban and wriggle its way across his cheek. "How can they be amused by only words such as these and pictures such as those? You must show them."

Thor watches as Loki begins to paint vivid pictures in the air with sparks of seidr that flash across Modi's cheeks and brow with soft reds and greens, listens as Loki's silvered voice winds through the air and makes the meadows of his images come to life, blowing the grass and flowers around Little Red's ankles as she bends down to pick them for her grandmother.

He finds himself dozing off as Loki tells them the story of Sleeping Beauty and how she slept for a hundred years, and by the time Loki turns to look at him, a satisfied grin on his face, he finds Thor with his head pillowed on his hand, sleeping in the armchair as soundly as Modi and Jory are. He shoots Thor a look of disbelief and amusement before quietly blowing out the candles and tiptoeing out of the nursery to finish his bath.

* * *

Thor wakes up the next morning with a horrid crick in his neck and Jory wrapped firmly around his wrist, biting at his fingers. Upon shaking him gently off, Jory gives him a look, as if to question why the big blonde hunk of meat cannot make pictures in the air like his mama can, before giving a little huff and slithering away.


	50. B'shert

Written to: Strawberry Avalanche - Owl City, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**B'shert****: **Literally, "destiny;" referring to the seeking of a person who will complement you and whom you will complement perfectly._

"Loki, darling. Loki, wake up," Thor whispers, reaching out and shaking Loki's shoulder tentatively. Loki mutters something in his sleep, and rolls over, clutching a pillow tighter to his chest, waving to Thor to go away and let him sleep in peace. Jory, who has managed to slither into Thor's half of the bed, hisses at him lightly, lazily, before coiling around Loki's wrist and snuggling his nose into the palm of Loki's open hand.

"Loki," Thor hisses, reaching out and pinching the soft skin of Loki's inner arm.

Loki jumps, cracks open an eye, and glares at him. "What do you want?" he snaps, gently stroking Jory's scaly head to soothe him back into sleep; the baby serpent complies happily and snuggles in between Loki's index and middle fingers with a soft sigh. "Must you insist on waking me up at ungodly hours of the morning?"

"I need to know," Thor says. "I need you to remind me of that flower you wanted, all those millennia ago. I said that I was going to try again to find it for you, and Mjolnir is feeling rather accommodating, so I think I can safely be back before lunchtime."

Loki looks at him in positive disbelief, amazed by the fact that Thor actually remembered something that transpired a few days ago; usually his memory was goldfish-like in nature and he couldn't grasp any facts that occurred three or more seconds ago.

"Blue flowers," Loki finally manages to say, once he gets over his disbelief. "Blue flowers, occurring in multiples of threes. The stems are a deep, dark green, almost black, and it has sharp curling thorns. Smells like peppermint, but it is very important that you do not taste it, because it is poisonous and can make you sick."

Thor nods, mulling over the flowers' description and committing it to memory.

"May I get back to sleep now?" Loki asks, snapping the covers up around himself. "You let all the cold air in. How am I supposed to sleep now?" he pouts.

"I will fetch Modi for you, and he can sleep next to you," Thor says. "The babe generates heat like a fire elf."

Loki is already half-asleep when Thor returns with Modi bundled up in his arms. Thor smiles, pressing a kiss to Loki's temple as he carefully deposits Modi next to Loki; his grin widens as Modi snuggles up to Loki's chest and Loki lifts up his arm a bit to allow Modi to press his cheek into the hollow of Loki's neck.

* * *

"You tasted it, didn't you." Loki rolls his eyes as he stares down at Thor in his sickbed; from his position in Loki's arms, Modi copies his mama's exasperation and sticks his thumb in his mouth, and Thor cannot help but smile. His smile quickly turns into a wince as another sharp pain goes shooting through his abdomen.

"I forgot that you said it smelt like peppermint, and thought you said it tasted like peppermint. The cold winds in the Asgardian mountains are not always so kind for recollections, and blow them all out of one's head at the slightest chance."

Loki sighs, sitting down next to Thor. "It only blows the thoughts out of your head because you only have a few thoughts in there and so they cannot help but be swept up."

Thor smiles, closing his eyes and sighing. "I did not forget you," he reminds Loki, and his eyes are not open to see a flush steal across Loki's cheeks. "You are always a constant thought. Perhaps the wind blows all the thoughts out of my head because you take up so much space in my mind there is hardly room for anything else."

Loki rolls his eyes again, blushing furiously, and turns his gaze to the vase of blue flowers on the nightstand.


	51. Nubivagant

Written to: Good Life - OneRepublic, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Nubivagant: **Moving among clouds._

"I have never been to this City of Angels before," Thor tells Loki as Loki herds him onto the plane.

"Remind me why you wanted to go there?" Thor asks as Loki cuddles Modi to his chest and motions for Thor to put their baggage into the overhead bin. "And why could we not have taken Mjolnir?"

The fact that the plane didn't sink instantly to the ground was relieving to Loki; it meant Thor hadn't smuggled Mjolnir somehow past the TSA, though that irritating woman with the smug smile and the gloves had spent rather a long time with her grubby hands pawing all over Thor's crotch while Thor looked bemusedly on.

"I fancied trying to be a Midgardian for a few days," Loki explains, smiling and giving Modi a kiss on the forehead as Modi grabs curiously at his hair. "Being Midgardian means no seidr, no Mjolnir, no nothing. Rather helpless."

"Rather helpless, indeed," Thor mutters as he buckles himself into the seat beside Loki and leaning over to peer out the window. "I have no idea about the reliability of this metal bird. Rest assured, small one," he says to Modi, who babbles up at him, "Mjolnir will come flying if I call her so that you and I can escape. Your mama, whose horrid idea this was, will perhaps be able to pilot the plane. He has proved rather adept at stealing and wielding aerial machines with plenty of buttons and dials."

Loki smiles, rolling his eyes, and tries to ignore the death grip Thor has on his hand as the plane taxis down the runway, gathering speed until it finally takes off with a jolt that has Thor's heart rising into his throat.

Once Thor finally opens his eyes and convinces his jaw to stop clenching, Loki grins at him and points out the window with his elbow. Thor looks past him at the city of New York and the blue, deep water of the ocean soaring past far underneath them, the cars like bright red beetles scurrying about on the thin strips of road.

Modi gasps as the plane tilts upward, soaring into a thick layer of clouds. All is white until the plane pops out, its shadow pressing itself against the golden tops of the clouds, and Thor watches in amazement as thick cottony spirals swirl up around them like an airy castle, the wings cutting through minarets and spires that Thor has only before seen with Mjolnir clasped firmly in his hand.

Loki smiles at Thor's helpless wonder, at the way Modi presses his tiny hands against the airplane window to see the clouds better, and thinks that perhaps being Midgardian is not so bad after all.

* * *

Once they hit turbulence somewhere over the Midwest, Loki sighs and rubs his temples as Thor begins to chant an Asgardian prayer very loudly, his knuckles white against the armrests.

He pinches Thor roughly the instant he sees Mjolnir tagging along, riding the grey swells of cloud in the plane's wake. Thor manages to wrench open his eyes, and per Loki's hissed request, sends Mjolnir flying back to the tower before it can rip through half the plane.

Thor glares at Loki and mutters something about how people probably called it the City of Angels because people died in the process of getting there, and Loki blatantly ignores him.


	52. Pandiculation

Written to: Home - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Pandiculation: **An all-over stretching and yawning, as upon waking or going to bed._

The metal bird has kept its talons in check rather well, Thor thinks to himself, but this does not stop him from clinging tightly to the armrests and Loki's wrists by turn until the plane has well come to a stop in the LAX terminal. Lax is exactly the opposite definition of what Thor is, and Loki privately thinks to himself that if Thor were to faint upon standing up, he might be inclined to toss a piece of luggage on top of him and claim it had shifted during the flight and fallen out upon opening the overhead bin instead of admitting that his husband did not have the stomach for this simple Midgardian form of transportation.

Modi had had none of his father's inhibitions (and even if he was capable of producing speech, Loki was fairly sure his son wouldn't have started chanting a loud Asgardian prayer that had drawn half the flight's attention to them, and had even had an on-flight priest asking if Thor needed some form of exorcism. Loki had politely declined) and had slept through the latter half of the flight, when he'd grown tired of looking at the castles in the clouds. The turbulence they'd experienced over the Midwest had had the effect of rocking Modi to sleep, and he'd slept quite quietly for the remainder of the flight.

Modi wakes up as the plane stills and Loki shifts him in his arms to carry a duffel bag full of clothes. He sighs, blinks a little bit, looks up at his papa who just barely has the strength to smile encouragingly down at him - he'd spent most of his mental energy trying to hold his own panic at bay.

Modi stretches in Loki's arms, a yawn widening his pink mouth into a perfect oval, and Loki grins down at him.

"Here we are, little one," he says gently. "Los Angeles. We are not angels, as your papa seems to be convinced we would have been had I allowed us to continue the trip. We are very much alive and have not disappeared into thin air."

Modi doesn't particularly care for any of this, and is only interested in what Loki might have packed for him in terms of baby food. Would there be potatoes at the next feeding? That was Modi's only concern. He liked mashed potatoes.

"You're probably hungry, aren't you, sweetheart?" Loki coos down at him as Thor gets out of his seat, stretches his stiff legs and slaps himself twice (the priest behind them asks if Loki is quite sure Thor is not possessed by a demon; Loki sighs, exasperated, and tells the priest that he is quite assured Thor is not possessed, or not yet, at least, and the priest looks quite frightened and hurries past them, chanting Hail Marys as he passes). "I'll feed you quite soon, don't worry, lovely," Loki continues as Thor opens the overhead bin and, true to form, a piece of luggage comes and bonks him straight on the head on its way down. Thor looks nonplussed for a moment before shaking his head and picking it up.

"Would you like potatoes?" Loki asks, and Modi's face brightens at this. "Oh, yes, you love potatoes, don't you, you little Samwise Gamgee?"

Thor stares at Loki, at Modi's smiling visage, reminds him that their son's name is Modi, and not Samwise Hamcheese or whatever Loki had said.

Loki rolls his eyes and tells Thor that it was a literary reference and it might do him well to read some of the better known Midgardian tomes.

As Thor follows Loki down the single aisle of the ferocious metal bird, he thanks the Norns that they survived and thanks the airplane for not swallowing him and his family whole. The priest hears him, and begins sprinkling holy water in their path as they exit the terminal.


	53. Rantipole

Written to: Summer - Malbec, crosspost from AO3.

* * *

_**Rantipole: **A wild, reckless young person; to be wild and reckless; wild and reckless._

"Hey, Nat." Clint walks through the door of their bedroom, where Natasha is lying on the bed and looking at an action film playing on the plasma screen mounted on the wall.

She reaches out, takes the bag of microwave popcorn from his hand, shakes it to coat all the pieces with salt and butter before tearing it open in a puff of steam. She takes out a piece, examines it, places it between perfectly red lips and crunches it with a little squeak before turning her attention to him.

"What is it?" she asks, looking at him with a sweet smile that reminds Clint how easy it is to love her.

"It's a Friday night."

"It is," she agrees, licking a smear of butter from her index finger. Clint follows the path of her tongue along her nail with his eyes. "You're rather observant, though I guess they can't call you Hawkeye for nothing." She turns her attention back to the TV screen, where a man with silver-blue eyes and a rather dashing suit is running across the glass ceiling of some skyscraper, guns blazing. "But what about this particular Friday night causes you to mention it?"

"Well, we're strapping young people," he says reasonably, sitting down beside her and taking a big handful of popcorn; the butter and salt spread slick grease across his fingers and the kernels squeak in protest between his teeth. "And we're doing what old people do, you know, sit down with each other quietly on Friday nights and watch movies about other strapping young people having adventures that we should be having. Making the most of it."

Natasha just rolls her eyes and flicks her attention back to the movie. "Perhaps we're already an old married couple trapped in young people bodies," she says. "A love that spans ages, when we'd rather just stay in with a good film and a bag of popcorn than go out on the town." The way she says it makes Clint's heart flutter in his chest, much more than it has any right to, and he wonders, not for the first time, when would be the appropriate time to pull out that powder blue Tiffany's box that hides in the closet of his own bedroom, which has hardly been used for the past few months.

"What did you have in mind, anyway?" she asks, looking back to him. "We've already been to well over ninety percent of the clubs in New York."

"Not necessarily clubbing," he says with a shrug. "Maybe some daredevil things. Stealing a police car, drag racing, going to that new cupcake place on the corner of 5th and Main that just opened up...they're supposed to have fantastic cheesecake cupcakes, or so I heard. Tony told me Pepper ate no less than fourteen in a day, but that might just be the baby."

He can see the wheels and sophisticated cogs turning around in Natasha's head as she mulls over this information. Unexpectedly, she stands up, takes Clint's hand and jerks him up off the bed into a kiss that tastes intensely of salt.

"God, sometimes like these I remember exactly why I love you, Mr. Barton," she says breathlessly as she hurries him down the tower stairs.

* * *

Two hours later, Clint is clinging onto three pink boxes of assorted cupcakes for his dear life as Natasha races the police car down Grand Avenue, sirens blaring and blue and red lights flashing for all they're worth.

"Don't you dare screw up the frosting," she says, laughing as she tosses a swirl of red hair over her shoulder and floors it.

Clint shudders, shields the cupcakes with his life, and thinks to himself it might have been better to just stay in and watch a movie instead.

* * *

Forty-five minutes after this, as Natasha is licking whiskey-laced frosting off his chest, Clint grins up at the ceiling and thinks that it was totally worth it.


	54. Uxorious

Written to: eighty-eights - Farewell, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Uxorious - **Totally submissive to your wife._

"Loki, darling, please just hear me out," Thor begs as Loki folds his arms across his chest and stares pointedly at a plasma TV screen mounted on the hotel wall. "It was completely an accident."

The accident in question had involved Thor accidentally stepping into a pothole while crossing a street in Los Angeles; he'd stumbled and tripped, and, unfortunately, his landing place had proven to be with his face firmly planted into some blonde tart's ample cleavage. This tart in question had giggled and cooed at Thor and told him that oh yes, he could stay there for as long as he wanted, and Loki in his fury had turned her into a pigeon the very instant Thor had picked himself out of her breasts and dusted himself off and apologised to the amused taxi driver who just beeped politely at them to get out of the road.

And, according to Loki, Thor should have shoved himself away from her as fast as possible, should have made some face of disgust and told her that he was most certainly not available. But no, instead Thor had turned to him with a bemused look on his face and asked where the girl had gone and why a rather bejeweled pigeon was standing in her place.

Loki frowns at Thor, who gives him a look like a puppy dog that has just been kicked. The room was conspicuously silent except for the drone of conversation from the television; Darcy and Helblindi, who'd been in the area for whatever reason, had insisted on taking Modi to a children's musical. (Darcy had insisted; Helblindi had picked up Modi and eyed him carefully, examining his as of yet absence of teeth to discover how much it would hurt when he inevitably bit him.)

"And it is not as though we have not had our dalliances in the past," Thor continues, and Loki pouts, unable to dispute this fact. Over the millennia that they'd been together, some breaks had been taken before being quickly resolved; Jörmungandr and Sleipnir were only two results to these little breaks, when Loki had run to other realms and other beings for comfort. But that hadn't been when they were married, Loki wanted to protest, but the presence of children seemed like a much bigger deal.

"Loooooooki, you cannot possibly ignore me forever," Thor says. "I have forever to wait also, so it would do you better if you would just accept my most sincere and heartfelt apologies now."

Loki glares at him, speaks his first words to Thor since the incident. "What will you do in apology?" he wants to know, and Thor's face brightens.

"Anything, sweetheart!" he proclaims grandly. "I would do anything to regain your forgiveness and good graces."

The corners of Loki's mouth tilt up in a little smile as the beginnings of wicked thoughts begin to curl into being in his mind.

* * *

Forty minutes later, Thor horrendously regrets promising Loki anything.

Loki has bound his wrists to the reinforced headboard with ropes of seidr that don't allow Thor any leverage with his hands. Another rope of seidr coils itself delicately around Thor's cock, curling tightly - too tightly - around the base, and Thor cannot help but watch with a dry mouth as Loki sinks himself down for what feels like the millionth time that night. Thor's thighs and abdomen are already wet, sticky, coated with the evidence of Loki's first, second, fifth orgasms, and Loki's wicked mouth is still turned up at the corners, slightly dulled with exhaustion but laughing all the same.

"I believe someone told me punishments shouldn't be enjoyable," he taunts breathlessly, crying out in a high quavering voice as he sinks himself back down roughly into the cradle of Thor's thighs.

Thor grinds his teeth, grinds up into Loki with all the leverage he has in his hips, grins savagely as Loki lets out a high pitched yelp and sob as he spills himself yet again, just a few weak spurts, across Thor's abdomen.

When Thor bucks his hips up again, chasing the unreachable burning heat that has settled in his stomach, Loki groans weakly and tells him that it is starting to hurt, he is too sensitive, and Thor impishly tells him that it was an accident.

Loki pushes himself up, one hand splayed across Thor's chest, and looks at him in disbelief before frowning and resuming a brutal pace once again.


	55. Baisemain

Written to: Eileen - The Hush Sound, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Baisemain: **A kiss on the hand._

"You think I will forgive you," Loki says, looking at Thor who is lying on his side and heaving like a winded bull, his face flushed as he struggles to breathe and recover from the orgasm that had been horrendously long in coming. Loki had eventually taken pity on him after a while (and he, too, was getting pretty tired) before releasing the seidr ropes binding Thor's wrists and cock and allowing Thor to throw him down onto the mattress and pound away until he spread warm heat into Loki.

"Yes," Thor mutters, rolling over to look at Loki, who just arches an eyebrow at him. "Forgiveness is what I have come to expect. And especially after that; you must remind me only to promise you things that I want to promise you instead of just making sweeping generalisations."

"Mm," Loki agrees, but both he and Thor know that he won't remind Thor of that, any time, just like he and Thor both know that Thor will eventually promise Loki anything once again.

"And I have forgiven you, also," Thor says, and Loki looks at him this time, really looks at him. "I have forgiven you for those times when you came back and began to swell heavy with child that was not mine, or when a little basket of baby would arrive for you in the post like a parcel. I have forgiven these things, you must remember."

Loki sighs, knows that this is true and that he cannot dispute the fact. His apologies have been a long time in coming, he thinks, as he finally turns to Thor and says that he is sorry. Really, truly sorry, that it had not been his intent.

Thor gives him a soft smile, pats his knee. "It happens, fairest," he says gently. "And I am sorry, too, for causing them in driving you away with silly quarrels and spats and fights. It is ill befitting of two princes to have such petty disagreements. And it is not like I do not like your children...although I have to say Jörmungandr likes to confuse me for his lunch and then gets very upset when he cannot chew through my skin."

Loki reaches for Thor's broad hand, picks it up, admires its width and strength against his own pale, slim fingers. He presses kisses to Thor's knuckles, tasting salt and sweat and heat that is rapidly boiling away, wonders if he ought to tell Thor about Angrboda, about Sigyn, about Svadilfari.

Thor watches Loki lave gentle kisses over the back of his hand, and wonders when he ought to tell Loki that he has already been forgiven, hundreds of thousands of times over.


	56. Ludic

Written to: So What - P!nk, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Ludic: Full of fun and high spirits. **_

Loki's 3,091st birthday invitations are made of beautifully creamy papyrus, written with actual mermaid tears from phoenix down quills, and embossed with vibranium leaf borders. Vibranium might have been the rarest element on Midgard, but Loki wasn't one to spare expense and had melted down several unused trial shields from the Avengers' inventory before anyone noticed.

Thor looks around the crowded halls of Asgard and wonders who exactly has NOT been invited; it seems the entire populations of all nine realms are present.

In the corner, Helblindi and Darcy sit together, laughing over slices of cake and goblets of wine, and Thor smiles, wishing for the best for the two of them.

He cranes his neck around, looking for the birthday boy in question, quickly ducks down behind a potted plant the instant Laufey sweeps into view, talking animatedly to Farbauti. Thor hears his name mentioned in conversation, and peeks through the fronds, wondering what exactly the frost king can have to say about him, but when he sees Laufey draw his hand across his throat with another mention of Thor's name, Thor decides it is probably better not to ask.

Thor creeps around the perimeter of the great ballroom before spotting Loki sitting at a table, laughing as he cradles Modi in one arm and haphazardly shovels cake into his mouth with the other at an alarming rate. Loki is chatting animatedly with Sif, gesticulating wildly with his fork, and Thor cannot help but smile as Modi waves his arms around, looking at the small flecks of frosting dotting his fingers before sticking them into his mouth and giggling at the sweetness.

"Feeling a bit lonely, are we, Prince Thor?" comes a raspy voice from behind him. Thor turns around, finds Byleistr with a flushed face, a goblet of wine sloshing clumsily over his fingers as he attempts to hold it upright.

Byleistr lunges forward, most likely aiming to grasp at Thor's crotch, and Thor quickly steps to the side; Byleistr smashes into a pillar and grins drunkenly up at him from his position of tangled limbs on the floor.

"I'm over 9000," he says, wobbling as he tries to stand up and failing, "so I've got like 5000 years more experience than my little brother over there." He tilts his head over in Loki's general direction and topples over into a potted fern.

Thor looks around, and upon determining that Byleistr will not be getting up any time soon, quickly nudges him the rest of the way into the soil and hurries off to join Loki at table.


	57. Nelipot

Written to: Sleeping In - The Postal Service, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Nelipot: **One who walks barefoot._

"I don't think he's supposed to be doing that," Darcy says, looking at Modi at his position approximately three feet above the ground. Modi giggles at the confused expression on her face, claps his hands in delight and sends a shower of sparks onto the tile floor of the hotel bathroom. "Is he supposed to be doing that?" she asks Helblindi, who eyes his nephew carefully and tells her that no, he most definitely is not supposed to be doing that. Babies are not supposed to levitate, especially not before they can walk, he tells her nonchalantly, and this new information only sends Darcy even further into a panicked frenzy.

"What should we do?" Darcy asks frantically, even though the ground beneath the baby is covered in a thick layer of towels and blankets and pillows. "Who are we supposed to call about this sort of thing happening?"

"I suppose you could always call Loki," Helblindi points out, stating the obvious.

"And then what am I supposed to tell him?" she says, "Oh excuse me, Loki, hello, how are you, sorry I woke you up but your son is floating and I can't get him to stop."

"...That's exactly what you should tell him."

Darcy throws her hands up in exasperation; Modi imitates her, sending a spark of seidr up to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and causing them to turn into ultraviolet lamps. The fluffy white towels light up brilliantly neon under the black light, and, much to Darcy's horror, there are several speckles on the floor that also light up rather too brightly.

"You're no help at all," she hisses at Helblindi as she bundles Modi up in a towel and tugging the floating baby behind her as she marches out of the bathroom.

* * *

"Hello?" Loki's voice is sleepy, cracking at the corners, and Darcy really would like to apologise but there are more pressing concerns right now.

"Excuse me, Loki, hi, um, sorry I woke you up but your son is floating and he won't listen to reason."

"I beg your pardon?"

From over the telephone, Darcy can hear the sleepy grunts as Thor wakes up and brings himself to consciousness.

"Hi, Thor," she says. "Your son is floating. I've tried to bribe him, with mashed potatoes, with a rattle, and - Oh my God, Helblindi, don't open the window for God's sake!" she snaps, grasping hold of a corner of the towel Modi is wrapped in. Modi is making motions that Darcy recognises as an attempt at swimming. "If he gets out the window, I won't be able to get him back, and then we'll really be screwed."

Helblindi, completely unapologetic, stands by the window and wonders how Los Angeles can still be so bloody hot, even at night.

* * *

"You like to fly, do you, small one?" Thor asks his son as Loki comes back into the hotel bedroom, toweling off his damp hair, his bare feet leaving long, rapidly fading footprints into the thick carpet. Modi is tethered to Mjolnir (who Thor had asked to calmly enter through the hotel window - unfortunately, Mjolnir's definition of 'calm' also somehow managed to involve demolishing half of the Avengers tower on her way out, much to Tony's horror), and is bobbing up and down like a balloon.

"You gave Darcy quite the scare," Loki says, climbing onto the bed and pressing his chilled feet into the tangle of Thor's legs.

Thor absentmindedly sits up, reaches down, takes the heel of one of Loki's feet into his hands, warming the cold skin with his fingers.

"But," Loki says, and Modi looks at him, "you must learn to walk, okay, love? It really will not do to have you floating yourself everywhere. You understand?"

Modi babbles at him questioningly, pointing towards the hotel windows, and Loki sighs in exasperation.

"And no, you are far too young to go out by yourself," Loki says with an air of finality, and Thor can swear that he is looking into a set of infinite mirrors as Modi pouts, looking exactly like Loki.

* * *

Thor wakes up in the early pre-dawn light to find Modi snuggled in between himself and Loki, curled up in a warm hollow between their bodies. One little arm is resting on Thor's chest, the little ribbon still tied to Mjolnir, who lies on her side on the floor.

Thor smiles, winces as Modi kicks him straight in the ribs in his sleep, catches a little foot in one of his hands and marvelling at the small heel cradled in his palms.


	58. Bakku-shan

Written to: It's Not My Fault, I'm Happy - Passion Pit, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Bakku-shan: **Someone, especially a woman, who only looks attractive from behind._

"Her name is Angrboda," Loki says, seemingly out of nowhere, watching Thor deflect Jörmungandr's seemingly harmless, curious nibbles at his fingers with the ease that only comes with centuries of deflecting such attacks. Jory's fangs have started to sharpen, good and proper now, and luckily for Modi and Thor, both of them seem to have impenetrable skin that make Jory's sharp nips feel like tiny, barely there pinches. Loki has had no such luck, and sports several bandages on his fingers for his troubles.

"Who is that?" Thor asks, still playing peek-a-boo with Modi. Jory thought it was an absolute childish game, something extremely fitting for the two large, pink objects in the room, and focused all his efforts on trying to bite through Thor's trousers instead.

"Jörmungandr's other parent." At the mention of his name, Jory turns his head quickly; his fangs get stuck in the coarse fabric of Thor's breeches and he squirms about, flailing, as he tries to dislodge himself. Thor picks him up by the neck and gently removes him; he gets a bite on his fingers for his efforts as he sets Jory down on the floor again.

"You do not have to tell me," Thor says, finally turning to face Loki. "It does not matter who it was, who they were, it is far in the past. They are still yours, and I can only love them for that."

Loki smiles, reaching down to scoop up Jory and receiving another bite on his arm. He glares at the baby snake, who cowers away and coils himself around Loki's wrist instead, soothing the puncture marks with little flicks of his forked tongue.

After a few moments of silence and thought, Thor turns back to Loki.

"Was she pretty?" he wants to know.

Loki grins as he remembers.

"No, not particularly," he says, and is pleased to see the flicker of a smile turn up the corners of Thor's mouth. "She was very pleasing from behind, though, I must say. But her face, oh dear," he says, laughing.

"I was rather in my cups that night, after our little dispute. I do not remember the exact details of it, but it was most likely something very silly; they usually are, with us. And, unfortunately, by the time I got around to her front side, it was too late."

Thor's laugh booms around the room, and Jory hisses at him from his perch wrapped around Loki's wrist. Loki pats his scaly head comfortingly.

"Surely it was an eye opening experience," Thor teases him, nudging Loki's foot with his own.

Loki grins. "Quite the contrary; I had to close my eyes quite tightly to get through the whole ordeal."

Thor smiles, rolling over onto the nursery carpet and picking Modi up, holding him above him amidst the baby's squeals of laughter. With tears of mirth in his eyes, he turns to Loki and says, quite seriously, "I'm rather happy to be blessed with a spouse who looks lovely from the back and the front."

Loki can only laugh and agree.


	59. Attaccabottoni

Written to: In Summer - Olaf (Josh Gad), Frozen OST. Crosspost from AO3. References to Chapter 56, "Ludic", and Chapter 46, "Oubliette."

* * *

_**Attaccabottoni: **Literally "button attacher;" a bore who 'buttonholes' you with long, uninvolved, and uninteresting tales of woe._

Byleistr wakes up a week or so later from his drunken stupor in the dungeons of Asgard, where he has been locked up for public indecency and showing himself to a minor (a vast quantity of minors, to be fair, but most of them had been looking past him to where Volstagg was in the process of trying to see how many drumsticks he could fit into his mouth).

He picks himself up, groans at the throb in his head as he stands up, brushes a few clumps of potted fern soil off of his shoulders. He casts around his cell, looking for something, anything, and finds himself suddenly face to face with a very deranged Malekith.

"Byleistr!" Malekith says in a delight that has his eyes lighting up red from the inside, much to Byleistr's horror. "I've been waiting centuries for you!"

And this most certainly was not true; Malekith had only been confined to the dungeons of Asgard for a few weeks while Idunn was in Svartalfheim, trying to plant some nice trees in the realm to puncture all the grey dismalness. She would return a few days later, unsuccessful, and would claim that the dark elves had hissed and spat and swore at her the first instant they caught sight of any sort of colour.

When Byleistr just stood there in shock, gaping at him and wondering what he had done to deserve such misfortune, Malekith sighed and toppled over onto the floor, proceeding to sob disconsolately.

"You're probably not even Byleistr," he pouts. "You're probably one of those silly demons that convert themselves to look like people that you desperately want to love. Or maybe I am finally going insane, that would be something, wouldn't it?"

Byleistr wanted to point out that he was fairly sure Malekith was already completely insane, but the Dark Elf proceeded to scream at the top of his lungs in despair.

"You would think that anybody would be delighted that the great ruler of Svartalfheim would want to make their acquaintance before having intimate relations with them," Malekith says, turning a tear-stained face back over to stare at Byleistr's boots. "But he didn't want to, can you imagine? He just wanted to skip straight ahead to the sex. I know it's probably very hard to imagine, you not being real and all that, but let me just tell you it was the single most devastating thing that has ever happened to me during my long life."

Byleistr starts to edge away, but the cell confines were rather small for two people, and Malekith reaches out and slaps a hand over the top of his right boot.

"Your shoes are very nice for an apparition," he muses, rubbing at the soft leather under his fingers. "We do not have such tender fabrics in Svartalfheim. But it is a much better realm than it was a few eons ago, under my realm. I am a very good ruler, you know."

Byleistr wants to tell Malekith that he wasn't capable of ruling any realm larger than a metal lunch tin, and even then that was questionable, but Malekith continues on his little tirade.

"So one night before I left, he was sleeping in his chambers and I snipped a little lock of his hair off. The most beautiful blue-black, smelling of ice and snow and blood, the most delicious aroma. Would you like to see it?"

Byleistr is horrified when Malekith reaches inside his shirt and pulls out an oval locket, snaps it open to reveal a little strand of dark hair.

"Smell," Malekith commands, shoving the locket towards him, and Byleistr tentatively reaches out and takes it from him, wondering if he can possibly break down the force field surrounding the cell. "He is a delightful being, Byleistr of Jotunheimr."

"Yes, I suppose he is," Byleistr says, feeling like he can do nothing but agree.

Malekith takes the locket back from him, tucks it carefully back inside the remnants of his shirt.

"Well, since you're just a figment of my demented mind, you might as well take a seat and listen. I feel we'll be in here for a good long while, and I have plenty of stories of my conquests and lost loves," Malekith tells him, quite cheerily.

At that moment, Helblindi taps past the cell, and Byleistr runs over to the wall, pounding on it; his older brother turns to face him and just gives him a cool, questioning stare as Malekith drags Byleistr back into the cell, sits him down against the furthest wall, and proceeds to regale him with the time of how he proclaimed himself the ruler of a small colony of meerkats.


	60. Quaintrelle

Written to: Tiptoe - Imagine Dragons, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Quaintrelle: **A woman who emphasizes a life of passion, expressed through personal style, leisurely pastimes, charm, and cultivation of life's pleasures._

"What do you think about it?" Natasha asks, tossing a slew of cherry curls over her shoulder and leaning forward to allow Clint to finish lacing up the corset, slipping the silky ribbons through tiny holes and tugging tight. "It's a nice colour, don't you think?"

And because playtime has not started yet, because they aren't in character yet, Clint smiles, leans forward to press a kiss to a creamy shoulder.

"I like it a lot," he says, finishing the lacing with a neat little bow that ends right between her shoulder blades. "It looks very good on you. Although everything does."

"You sure know how to talk to a woman, don't you, Mr. Barton?" she teases, throwing him a glance over her shoulder. He smiles back at her.

"Maybe," he teases her right back, curling a tangle of red hair around his index finger and tugging gently. She watches him thread the strands through his fingers. "But maybe it's just because you're the only one who ever listens in."

She grins, gives him a little shove to the shoulder, pushes him back onto the bed, and just like that she goes from being just Natasha Romanov to something much more. Clint watches the transformation appreciatively, propping himself up on his elbows and admiring the way the corset hugs her slender curves, how the red lacings around the edges are the exact same shade as her hair, lets his eyes linger on the tiny garters that hold up her sheer silk stockings.

"And now?" she asks, her voice a dangerous, seductive purr as she slides herself up his body and splays her hands out over his chest. "Do I listen to you now?"

Clint swallows, his eyes caught by the way her tongue traces the swell of her lower lip.

"No, Mistress," he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I listen to you."

Natasha smiles, her teeth gleaming in the low light of the bedroom.

"Yes, love, that is exactly right," she whispers as she sits up and reaches out to unbutton his pants.


	61. Borborygmi

Written to: Alone - Armin Van Buuren ft. Lauren Evans, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Borborygmi: **The rumbling sounds that your stomach makes._

Thor comes back from great hunts laden down with animal skins and horns, scented with the joy of triumph and victory, a deep-rooted bloodlust sated and satisfied. He comes home, promptly tosses the pelts and bones into a room haphazardly (and Loki has already told him to please try and organise them, but of course Thor never heeds this advice), and traipses through the halls of Asgard, in search of Loki.

"I am positively famished," he tells Loki as he pins Loki to the bed, and Loki can even hear the growlings of thunder prowling about under Thor's skin.

"I am not a ham for you to stuff into your mouth," Loki protests, but his words are cut off by a sharp gasp as Thor leans down and bites at the soft skin of his neck, sucking at the sweet flesh he finds there. "Those particular hams are in the kitchen," he continues as Thor pushes aside the shoulders of Loki's robes and captures a dusky nipple between his teeth, twisting a soft whimper from Loki's throat.

"Hush, love," Thor mutters, biting kisses into the taut skin pulled across the hollows of Loki's hips. "I wish to have you first; if you do not stop moving, I may get careless and begin to eat you up, instead."

Loki wants to point out that the bites Thor is nibbling into his skin will leave confusingly telltale marks, the ones on his neck in particular, for everybody to see. Thor just smiles up at him - more innocently than he has any right to - and tells Loki that he is far too delicious of a treat to pass up.

Loki has another sharp, biting retort on the tip of his tongue when Thor suddenly opens his mouth and swallows Loki down.

Loki gasps, tossing his head back against the soft pillows of their bed, twisting his hands into the silky sheets underneath him to try to ground himself. Thor's throat closes around him in rhythmic swallows, his tongue massaging across velvety, heated skin, teasing, tantalising, tasting and lapping up the clear stickiness Loki's cock is beginning to leak into his mouth. One of Thor's hands is splayed out over Loki's abdomen, the other in between Loki's legs, fingers circling delicately around Loki's twitching entrance.

Loki sighs, half in frustration, half in pleasure, as Thor teases him, and finally snaps at Thor that he ought to hurry up and eat faster. Thor gives him a little smile, as best he can with his mouth stuffed full, and scrapes his teeth lightly against the skin of Loki's cock as he pulls off him with a short pop, lips cherry red and glistening.

"Why, fairest?" Thor wants to know, his hot breath ghosting against Loki's aching erection; Loki cants his hips forward, and Thor just gives a little laugh and pins his hips down to the bed. "You have always been one to hound me about not eating so quickly."

Loki grinds his teeth in frustration.

* * *

An hour or so later, when Loki is just drifting off to sleep amidst a delicious haze of soreness, he is rudely awoken up by a very loud rumble of thunder close to his head. He jolts out of his doze, instantly alert, looks over his shoulder at Thor, who is fast asleep, an arm slung carelessly, heavily over Loki's waist.

As Loki stares at him, he hears the loud rumble of thunder, which trails off into a little whine and hiccup at the end. Thor mutters something in his sleep about hams and chickens in great quantities, and Loki just snorts, lies back down, and pulls the pillows over his head to try and muffle the noises of Thor's growling stomach beside him.


	62. Sciamachy

Written to: Let It Go (Frozen) by Disney/Pixar Characters - Brian Hull, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Sciamachy: **A battle against imaginary enemies; fighting your shadow._

Thor is still half asleep when he hears a strange voice coming from the nursery, one that he doesn't recognise. He jolts awake, blinking the sleep from his eyes and squinting in the bright morning sunlight that is streaming in through the windows. Loki's side of the bed is empty, the hollow where he's slept still warm and cosy against Thor's hand as he pats at the mattress to feel.

But that voice can most definitely not be Loki, Thor thinks as he races to the nursery, his mouth dry and heart pounding as he bangs into the room, ready to face whatever foe has intruded upon his family.

Much to his vast surprise, Loki is sitting in the armchair by Modi's bassinet, cradling Modi in his arms and tickling him with long fingers. Thor watches in bemusement as Loki speaks again, his voice deep and raspy as he growls to Modi that he has such sharp teeth because they are all the better to eat him up with.

"Loki...?" Thor asks tentatively, his fingers ready to twitch for Mjolnir at any sign of Modi's distress. Modi just laughs and pats at Loki's face with tiny fingers.

Loki looks up as Thor enters, smiling at him, and Thor smiles back hesitantly, still unsure.

"What is it?" Loki asks, and that is most definitely Loki's voice, silver and light, but Thor walks over anyway and examines Loki closely, from the hazel flecks in his deep green eyes to the little beauty mark resting at the corner of his mouth, trying to make sure that it is indeed him.

"What are you doing?" Loki repeats patiently, and Modi babbles up at his father. "Do you think you are still in dreams? Is that what this is?"

Thor glances at him suspiciously, but Modi seems to be having a grand time and nothing seems particularly remiss; he relaxes incrementally and tells Loki that he had heard a strange voice in the nursery and just wanted to make sure that there were no intruders in the castle.

Loki rolls his eyes, tells Modi that his papa is really quite moronic, before turning to Thor and telling him that it might be wise to make sure he is wearing pants before he goes charging to face any potential attackers. Thor looks down, sees that Loki is quite right, and blushes furiously as he dashes out of the nursery amidst the sounds of Loki's laughter.


	63. Gumusservi

Crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Gumusservi: **Moonlight shining on water._

"What do you think about the Caribbean?" Thor asks, tossing a honeymoon catalogue Loki's way. Modi had just begun to crawl, and insisted on wobbling all over the nursery and castle, wearing paths in the soft nursery carpet and always somehow managing to be underfoot when anyone was carrying a heavy pot of soup. Of course, once they tripped over him and splattered the soup all over themselves, he would just giggle and crawl away, much to the chagrin of many a cook in the Asgardian kitchens.

"What about the Caribbean do you like?" Loki says, picking up the catalogue and poring over it. "What is your fascination with the sea or large bodies of water?"

Modi looks at a fat stack of catalogues sitting by Loki's thigh, decides that it would make a good tower to climb on top of, and proceeds to slip and slide all over the glossy pages. Loki runs a hand through his son's unruly blonde curls absentmindedly.

"I have always wanted to travel on a ship," Thor says, "and not for my final voyage into Valhalla, you know the one, where they toss your body on a boat and set you off into the sea and then shoot flaming arrows at you. I know that's the way it's been for thousands of years, but I for one am reluctant to have that be my first and only voyage on a sea vessel."

Loki snorts, rolls his eyes, and continues flipping through magazine catalogues. He has to admit that the Caribbean does look rather nice, with its big white cruise ships named after English queens sailing through aquamarine water that cupped the full moon amidst its soft swells during the night. And the white beaches, and the sand, and Loki figures he could probably get gorgeously tanned without getting burnt too badly. Helblindi had given him a few bottles of a Midgardian concoction called sunscreen, SPF 45, which he claimed had protected his jötunn skin very well from Midgard's harsh climates.

Loki could envision it already, the sweet, salty smell of the water while he sat on a lovely sandy beach and sipped pink drinks with umbrellas...

And then Thor rudely butted into his vision again, tossing another catalogue his way. This one was for sailing around the frozen seas of Jotunheimr.

Loki snorts, a definite no, and gives the catalogue to Modi to add to his slide.


	64. Cordiform

Written to: I Won't Give Up - Jason Mraz, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Cordiform: **Heart-shaped._

"Loki, love, did you know this?" Thor asks, flipping through the pages of a book. This surprises Loki to no end, as he enters the bedroom from his bath, his hair dripping over his shoulders and a towel wrapped around his waist. He hasn't seen Thor pick up a volume in centuries, and from the looks of it, this one doesn't even have coloured pictures. Quite a vast improvement over the last one Thor read, which, as Loki recalled, involved a giant strawberry and a mouse.

"Know what?" Loki asks, turning his back to Thor and rooting through their armoire for a clean nightshirt to wear. Thor admires the view as Loki allows the towel to slip to the floor.

"There are some Midgardian theories that a heart shape originated from the appearance of a female bending over and presenting her bottom."

Loki shoots Thor a glance over his shoulder, rolls his eyes, wonders what exactly Thor can possibly be reading.

Thor clears his throat.

"This is the part where you bend over and present your bottom to me," he clarifies, and even from here, Loki can feel the heat of Thor's gaze on the small of his back.

Loki sighs, and because Thor has that absentminded smile on his face, the one he gets whenever he is thinking about something that he should most definitely not be thinking about, obliges.

Thor looks from Loki back to the book, back to Loki again, and thinks that perhaps Midgardians are more clever than he had given them credit for.


	65. Retrouvaille

Written to: Best Friend - Toy Box, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Retrouvaille: **The joy of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation; rediscovery._

"Don't you remember me?" Steve asks, his face equally as distressed as Modi's wailing visage. Thor had deposited Modi with Steve so he and Loki could go on their long-overdue honeymoon in the Caribbean - well, if anyone really asked, Steve had asked for Modi to be deposited with him, he adored the baby so.

Modi did not appear to like this change and squirmed in Steve's arms, trying to get down on the floor, twisting his face in distress and flailing his little limbs around in a search for Loki or Thor. He wasn't quite sure he liked this big blue person with the big red letter on his face.

"It's me, your uncle Steve!" Steve said, bouncing Modi up and down in his lap. He had thought that Modi might enjoy seeing him in full Captain outfit - didn't babies like that sort of thing? And surely his costume was not as scary to a child as Tony's was, with all those electronic gadgets and the shoulder missile launchers and such. Not that he trusted Tony with a child. For Pepper's sake, Steve hoped that that fact would soon change.

"Maybe you're hungry?" Steve asks Modi; of course, Modi cannot tell him anything relevant. "Would you like some potatoes?" Loki had said that Modi enjoyed potatoes to a great extent, but not even the mention of the tuber could bring a smile to the baby's red face.

Modi thrashes and wriggles in Steve's arms, sobbing inconsolably.

Steve eyes him carefully. "Are you tired?" he asks, but Modi just continues to cry. "Maybe you're tired." Steve shifts Modi to a shoulder, pats his back soothingly, tries to calm him down, but this only puts Modi's mouth closer to his ear and has the effect of half deafening him. Steve puts him back on his lap.

"Your papa brought you some toys," Steve says, putting Modi on the floor. The baby sniffles, rubs his eyes with tiny fists, and pouts at the little activity table Thor had set up for him (with the help of Mjolnir) on the floor. He picks up a wooden block, bangs it against the table halfheartedly, before beginning to cry again.

Steve sighs, reaches up, tugs off his mask and rubs a hand over his face, wondering what he can possibly do to stop the crying. Bruce had holed himself up in the laboratory a few hours ago, and Clint and Natasha were nowhere to be seen. Tony had vacated the premises the instant Modi had started to sob, claiming something about an international business meeting, even though Steve knew there was nothing of the sort.

Steve is so used to the crying that he doesn't realise that it's stopped until Modi hiccups.

He takes his hand away from his face, looks down at the baby, who hiccups again and begins to smile up at him toothlessly.

"Are you alright now?" Steve asks incredulously, leaning forward and wiping away some stray tears. Modi giggles and chomps down on his finger with a surprising amount of strength, and Steve is grateful for the fact that the baby does not yet have teeth.

"Thank goodness," Steve says, smiling in relief and patting Modi's blonde head, watching as he begins to slam blocks into his tray table with vigour and enthusiasm.


	66. Mudita

Written to: German Love - STRFKR, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Mudita: **Sympathetic, vicarious joy; happiness rather than resentment at someone else's well-being or good fortune; the opposite of schadenfreude._

Thor tosses a glance at Loki over his shoulder as the warm salty waves of the Caribbean Sea laps up around his waist, grins back at Loki, who is sitting on the beach and sipping a tasty drink from a tall glass with a frilly umbrella hooked over the lip.

Thor waves at Loki to join him, but Loki staunchly refuses to budge, his limbs already perfectly slathered with 45 SPF sunscreen and his body wedged under a large beach umbrella to protect himself from the sun's rays. He flips through the pages of some hideously written Midgardian romance novel and tries to keep the sand from blowing into his eyes with one hand as he sips his Mai Tai.

"I can see you perfectly well from here," Loki calls back, swatting away a little crab that has crawled up to his blanket and pinching at his foot curiously, wondering what he can possibly be. The crab glares at him - if crabs could glare - and scuttles away, burrowing back into the sand an inch from Loki's leg. Loki holds the book aloft, waiting for the foul beast to resurface so he can smack it into the afterlife.

Thor is absolutely not convinced, holds aloft the trident that Poseidon had lent to him for a few days, sends a giant wave crashing straight into Loki, washing away the horrendous Midgardian romance (which was, all things considered, quite a relief) and knocking over several sandcastles, sending twenty or so small children running to their mothers with tears in their eyes.

Loki, much against his better wishes, is swept back out to sea; Thor catches him as he is bobbing past, clutching the remains of the beach umbrella. Once he is quite sure Loki has found stable footing in the wet sand underfoot, Thor splashes him with a vast quantity of water that gets everywhere, drenching Loki's hair and getting in his eyes and mouth. Loki frowns, closes his eyes and rubs the salt out, spits out the briny water directly into Thor's face and is vastly displeased when Thor begins to laugh.

"You are not very nice," Loki says, pouting more for the fact that that is the only retort he can come up with. "I was having a good time just reading and sitting on the beach."

Thor smiles, grasps Loki by the waist, the trident clutched firmly in the other hand. "Yes, but I wished to have a good time with you. Would you like to explore the depths of the sea, fairest? The trident can take us places, much like Mjolnir."

Before Loki has a chance to respond, Thor takes him firmly by the wrist and dives further out into the water, tugging Loki along beside him into the depths. Loki sighs, takes a deep breath and holds it, and tries not to smile as he watches Thor's wonder at the coral reefs and tropical fish swimming underneath their feet.


	67. Hoppipolla

Hoppipolla is a song by Sigur Ros, as well, and it's pretty good. You should go give it a listen.

Written to: Flashback - Calvin Harris, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Hoppipolla: **Jumping into puddles._

Steve certainly hopes that Thor and Loki are having a good time sailing around the West Indies. A few days after they left, when it was time for Steve to put Modi down to sleep for the night, the baby had squirmed around and started to whimper, looking around for his mama or his papa. Steve was a good person to be with, to be sure, but Modi, of course, had to wonder where his parents were, and didn't seem to comprehend the idea of a honeymoon, and certainly not one without him.

"Your mama and papa are in the Caribbean," Steve had tried to explain hundreds of times over, but Modi kept looking around and pouting and whimpering until he finally managed to cry himself into an exhausted sleep. By that time, Steve was far too tired to get up to go to his own room, and had fallen asleep in the armchair by the crib. Tony had teased him to no end once the engineer discovered a sleeping Steve, his head pillowed on his hand, sitting slumped over in the chair while Modi shook his silver rattle furiously and screamed at the tall blonde person to hurry up and feed him already.

After the first fifteen minutes, Tony had come in to see what all the ruckus was about, had seen Steve, and had been teasing him ever since.

It had begun to rain outside, and the deluge didn't seem ready to stop anytime soon. Modi seems to be comforted by the silver streaks of rain rolling down the window by his bassinet, and pats at the window with tiny hands, leaving little fingerprint smudges all over the glass as he babbles at the storm outside. Steve wonders if it is because the rain reminds him of his father.

Modi laughs, claps his hands as a strike of thunder crashes outside, the lightning bolt lighting up his face a few moments later. He points out the window, looks at Steve questioningly, slaps against the glass.

"Do you want to go outside?" Steve asks, and he can swear Modi nods. "It's raining now, you might get sick."

Modi frowns at him - and how can Steve not be reminded of Loki, it's impossible, with that expression - and points out the window again, demanding.

"You can't even walk."

Modi rolls his eyes, puffs out his cheeks, and Steve swears that babies are not supposed to be doing that, not even Asgardian ones, as Modi floats out of his crib and over to the door. Modi flings out a little arm, pointing outside, and Steve sighs, rubs his eyes and hopes that he is still dreaming, before walking over and opening the balcony doors for him.

As he steps outside, Modi's little hand firmly clasped in his own, Steve is gladdened to find that the rain is a warm summer rain, painting their skin with softness. Modi floats himself down directly into a puddle, dragging Steve along with him, and Steve sighs but obliges, sitting down firmly in the puddle that has gathered on the balcony floor.

"You like the water?" Steve asks, but Modi doesn't answer. He is far too entranced with splashing at the water around him and giggling as his blonde curls grow damp and fall into his face.

Steve sits back, watches Modi splashing away with a smile on his face.

* * *

Later that night, after Steve has bathed and fed and clothed Modi again, the baby falls asleep without a fuss, exhausted.

Steve yawns, stretches, thinks that perhaps tonight he'll be able to make it back to his bed.

He doesn't, and the next morning, Tony just smirks at Steve's sleeping form, picks up Modi, and carries him to the kitchen to feed him.


	68. Oculoplania

Written to: She's So High - Tal Bachman, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Oculoplania: **Letting your eyes wander to assess someone's "charms."_

If anyone were to ask, Thor was most definitely not trying to bore a hole in the thick film of bubbles that coated the bath water. If anyone asked, he was most certainly not trying to look underneath the foam to where Loki's long, sleek limbs lay in the warm water.

Thor looks at Loki's face, his eyes covered with thin slices of cucumber. Thor had absolutely no idea what Loki was going on about with the vegetable rounds, but decided it was probably better not to ask, and had instead decided to clamber into the tub with Loki instead, sloshing bubbly water all over the tiled floor of the suite's bathroom. Loki's head rest on the edge of the tub, and he obligingly slid loose legs over to the side so Thor could fit into the large whirlpool tub as well.

Thor snatches a look at Loki, whose head is still tilted back, a glass of Midgardian wine held in loose fingers, the bubbles coming up to the hollow of his throat. He decides that Loki cannot possibly know, cannot possibly see past the green slices of cucumber, and begins to comb at the water with his fingers.

He gathers bubbles up in his hands, and for a better place to put them, pulls them all to his side of the tub; the foam comes up to his chin as he draws the slick bubbles towards him in long, shallow strokes, so as not to clue Loki in as to what he is doing. Once he is sufficiently satisfied that the water is clear enough for him to see, Thor takes a good, long look at Loki's delicate limbs, soft and relaxed and rippling underneath the water's surface.

His eyes trace over Loki's chest, the soft lines of his stomach, linger at the junction of his thighs where his cock lies, quiet, resting, against a leg.

And, apparently, his gaze is penetrating enough to catch Loki's attention from beneath the cucumbers; Loki reaches up, picks the cucumbers off his face, and looks up to find Thor with a foam beard staring very intently into the water at him.

Loki rolls his eyes, reaches out and pulls Thor's hand (and, once again, if anyone were to ask, Thor had most certainly not had the intention of touching), and places it gently over his cock before leaning his head back again and closing his eyes with a smile as Thor begins to stroke.


	69. Commuovere

_**Commuovere: **To stir, to touch, to move to tears. _

"This has been a rather long overdue celebration, dearest," Thor says, wrapping an arm around Loki and looking out over the railing of the balcony at the soft waves lapping up on the beach a scant few feet from their hotel suite. "However, I would dare to say that it is a well deserved one. I can hardly remember what this is like, just the two of us, like this. Modi is constantly chattering away or demanding something for it to be quiet for too long."

Loki smiles, sips at a glass of champagne, feeling the bubbles tickle at his throat as he feels the cool salt breeze against his skin. He reaches up, laces his fingers with Thor's.

"Yes, it is very quiet," he agrees, but right as he says that, a bonfire lights up on the beach and casts flickering orange light around a group of revelers who begin to cheer and toast each other with red party cups held aloft. Loki laughs and snuggles into Thor's side as the wind picks up and sends showers of sparks from the flames cascading into the sand. "I spoke too soon, it seems."

Thor massages the small of Loki's back as they watch the people on the beach dance drunkenly around the flames.

"I love you," Loki says suddenly, and even though it is very dim, even though Thor can barely see five feet in front of him, he can make out the blush on Loki's face as he says this.

And because this is so unexpected, because Loki rarely - if ever - says his emotions explicitly, Thor just smiles and waits a few moments to allow the tears that have risen up behind his eyeballs to subside before leaning over to press a kiss to Loki's jaw.


	70. Sillage

_**Sillag**__e_: The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

Thor wakes up one sunny Caribbean morning to find Loki gone, the mattress beside him curled into a long, soft hollow where Loki's body has rested in his sleep, his back pressed up right against Thor's chest.

He reaches over, sleepily brings Loki's pillow to his face and smells sandalwood and lemon, like the shampoo that comes in those little bottles that Loki says are not nearly enough to keep his hair up to standards. Smells a soft musk that only comes to Loki when he sleeps next to Thor and perfumes his skin.

He rolls over sleepily, stretching and rubbing his eyes as the birds chirp outside the window and the surf laps up against the sand just a few feet away. Yawning, Thor stands up, walks over to the window, pushes aside filmy white curtains to look outside.

Much to his vast surprise, Thor finds Loki waist deep in the aquamarine water, the waves pooling and rippling around him on their way to the beach. He has his hair done up in a messy bun, the ends of which are already dripping from errant sprays of surf, and he picks his way carefully through the water, letting the foam and the bubbles spill and trace eager paths around his waist.

Loki stops for a moment, bending down a bit to look into the water, and Thor opens his mouth to warn him of the incoming wave. Unfortunately, his warning comes far too late, and right as Loki reaches into the water to pick up something in the wet sand at his feet, a wave comes crashing straight down on his head. Thor stifles a laugh as Loki comes up a few seconds later, spluttering brine and rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, looking more than a bit disgruntled.

He hides quickly behind the curtains the instant Loki's head begins to turn back in his direction, hurriedly gets back into the bed and rolls the blankets haphazardly over him the instant he sees Loki trudging back towards the hotel, his feet leaving small hollows in the white sand.

Thor has his eyes tightly closed and his breathing in some semblance of deep sleep when Loki reenters the room. He can feel Loki's gaze on him, bites the inside of his cheek to keep a smile from reaching his face, smells the sharp tang of salt and sandalwood and Loki as Loki leans over him, dripping seawater onto the blankets as he reaches over Thor to place something on the nightstand.

The instant Thor hears Loki's footsteps recede into the bathroom, the instant he hears the taps for the shower turn on, he opens his eyes, looks at the perfectly formed conch shell on the nightstand, and allows himself to smile.


	71. Verklempt

Written to: Skinny Love - Bon Iver, crosspost from AO3. It's my birthday tomorrow.

* * *

_**Verklempt: **Completely overcome with emotion._

Modi is grateful for the day that Loki and Thor come to fetch him back from the Avengers tower, looking gloriously tanned with necklaces of bright red and white flowers draped around their necks. Yes, Steve - that was what the big blonde man called himself, but Modi thought it was a very odd sounding name - was an adequate substitute for his papa, except he couldn't fly and didn't have a big hammer to take Modi flying around the city. And Modi missed his mama something fierce, and was more than delighted to see Loki walking through the door.

So excited is he the minute he sees Loki's face appear over the couch, that he pushes himself away from Steve and the bowl of mashed potatoes he is waving enticingly in front of Modi's mouth. Loki grins, bends down and opens his arms for Modi to crawl into them.

Much to Loki's surprise, Modi pushes himself up onto his feet, wobbles towards him unsteadily, trips over a corner of the rug and topples over in a little heap on the carpet. Loki holds his breath, waiting for the wails to begin, but Modi just looks at the ground with a determined look on his face, chews on his lip, and pushes himself back up.

"Oh, nine skies," Loki breathes, holding out a hand for Modi to latch on to, tears building up behind his eyes and choking in his throat. "When did you learn how to do this, sweetling?"

Modi takes the final few steps towards Loki at a tilting, wobbly run, giggling as he burrows his face into the hollow of Loki's neck.

Thor comes into the tower living room, juggling duffel bags and souvenirs from hand to hand, comes upon Loki crying silently into their son's shoulder. At first, Thor can't recognise the tiny blonde child Loki is cradling in his arms (Steve had taken it upon himself to give Modi a haircut, and Modi's short blonde curls corkscrewed out at weird angles and lengths. Steve was a superhero, not a super hairdresser, not by any means).

Once Thor recognises the child as Modi, he wonders if Loki is crying because Modi's hair contained some magical powers like in that one movie with that blonde girl with the ridiculously long hair Loki had forced him to watch. And then Thor looks - really looks - and sees that for the first time Modi is standing. Really, truly standing, his two little feet planted firmly on the ground.

Thor gives a great roar of delight, sweeps Loki and Modi up into his arms, and dives out the nearest window. Steve just stares after the Asgardians, mouth agape, mashed potatoes slowly falling over the edge of the spoon onto the carpet. They couldn't fly, could they? Steve wondered. Not without Mjolnir -

Just as Steve thinks that, he turns and ducks just in time as Mjolnir joyfully goes whizzing over his head to follow Thor. She missed the window the first time - and the second, and the third, and just for good measure smashed the rest of the bulletproof windows on that floor before plummeting after Thor.


	72. Naology

Written to: Constant Conversations - Passion Pit, crosspost from AO3. Happy Birthday to me - 19y/o, and patiently waiting for my starter shipment of cats to begin my quest for the crazy cat lady title.

* * *

_**Naology: **The study of sacred buildings._

"This is sacrilegious," Loki hisses as Thor lifts him up onto the altar. "I don't even know what manner of animals have been killed on this thing."

Thor rolls his eyes as he frees himself of his breeches and clambers up on top of Loki, pressing him against the cold stone of the Asgardian chapel's altar. "Probably lots of things, love," he says with a grin as he begins to unlace Loki's trousers. "Here, sit up, I can place my cloak under you so that your precious skin won't become stained by the ghostly blood of sacrifices past."

Loki snorts, but sits up and allows Thor to spread his scarlet cape out over the cold stone before lying back down.

"That does nothing to change the fact that you have forcibly dragged me here to engage in licentious activities," Loki mutters, but he can't stop the blush that begins to creep across his face as Thor taps two thick fingers against his lips, as he opens his mouth obediently to roll his tongue around the pair of digits to coat them.

"Think of it as a study," Thor says, grinning mischievously at Loki as he reaches underneath him and gently works his fingers into him.

"A study?" Loki wants to laugh, but it gets choked off in a moan. "A study in what, exactly?"

"A study in the sturdiness of Asgardian sacrificial altars," Thor clarifies, hitching one of Loki's legs over his shoulder and pressing hot, velvet, rough into him. Loki bites at the back of his hand to stifle a cry as Thor bottoms out in him. "Midgard does not have these. They merely have those pools of water. Perhaps they drown their sacrifices in them."

Loki flushes hot, remembering the incident at the Vatican fifty or so years ago. The pope, upon finding them with entangled limbs in the baptismal font, had passed out and smacked his head rather hard against the tile. Thor had been rather concerned about the old man, but Loki had dragged them out of the chapel, cloaks dripping, telling a passing archbishop that the pope appeared to have fainted.

Loki sighs, shudders against Thor as Thor rocks deep into him, pressing kisses to Loki's inner knee.

"This is ridiculous," he says, laughing breathily as pleasure shudders up his spine. "Absolutely, positively ridiculous."

Thor grins, leans down to press a kiss to Loki's mouth, and agrees.


	73. Serendipity

Written to: To The Beginning - The Workday Release, crosspost from AO3. Thanks for the birthday wishes :)

* * *

_**Serendipity: **Finding something good without looking for it._

Modi had become more confident in his limited walking abilities, perhaps a bit too confident, as the numerous scrapes on his elbows and knees have proven. And, unfortunately, Modi had Thor's stubbornness, and insisted on walking and toddling everywhere, even if it meant clinging to Frigga's expensive draperies and tearing them off the curtain rods in his attempts to keep his balance. Frigga only smiled in exasperation and brought out the white cotton draperies she'd used when Thor was still just a child.

Jörmungandr, though unable to walk, often enjoyed joining Modi on his adventures through the halls of Asgard, riding along on Modi's shoulder or curled around his wrist.

Loki loses his children one afternoon, waking up from a short-lived and much-deserved nap the instant he hears the door to the nursery click closed. He rubs the sleep from his eyes hurriedly, frowns at his heavy limbs as he jolts out of the chair and runs over to the door, opening it only to see Jory's smug expression from the baby serpent's position facing backwards on Modi's shoulder.

"Oh, Norns," Loki mutters, as he hurries after them. And Loki would like to believe that it is because the hall's distance is much farther than anyone expected, that it isn't because he is somewhat out of shape and unused to pursuing fast creatures, that he is out of breath once he reaches the corner.

He frowns. Modi and Jory are nowhere to be seen, and he sighs, pinching at his temples and wondering if the Midgardians practice of tethering their children to leashes and backpacks was really as stupid as he had once presumed.

* * *

Modi giggles into his hand as he sees his mama's feet pass by the curtain he and Jory are hidden under, tapping by quickly, searching.

He peeks out from behind the curtain, Jory's face by his own, the snake's beady eyes searching for Loki's retreating form. Once the two are satisfied that Loki is nowhere in the general vicinity, Modi toddles out from behind the fabric and off in a different direction.

Jory points with his tail at an open doorway, and Modi, attracted by the sunlight streaming through it, wriggles through the slightly ajar door, his eyes widening in delight as the two are shuttled out into a vast green garden with huge trees and golden orbs.

Jory slithers down from Modi's shoulder, making a small pathway in the grass as he wriggles over to a fallen golden sphere on the ground, flickers his little tongue out against it before unhinging his jaws wide and biting into it, making two small puncture marks. Modi walks over, curious, bending down and toppling over onto Jory as he attempts to pick up the golden ball. Jory hisses at him, but there is no real malice behind the noise as the baby snake continues to lick at the small holes he has made in the golden surface, from which a clear liquid is leaking.

Modi gnaws on the ball he holds in his hands, careful not to bite down on Jory's head, and pouts when he cannot make a hole in the surface. He turns to look around him, picks up a little rock, and smashes it against the ball. This time, the yellow thing cracks and dents a little bit, the golden surface peeling back to reveal soft yellow-white skin that leaks out sticky juice onto Modi's fingers. Modi sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucking, his grin growing at the sweetness.

* * *

Idunn finds the two little princes asleep in her gardens as she goes through her evening rounds, surrounded by a little circle of dented apples. She smiles, bends down to scoop the two of them up, and returns to the castle.


	74. Murr-ma

Written to: The Bird and the Worm - Owl City, crosspost from AO3

* * *

**_Murr-ma: _**_To walk along in the water searching for something with your feet._

"Oh, forget about it," Darcy calls out to Helblindi, but Helblindi pays no attention, wading out further into the Atlantic Ocean and privately thinking that the temperature of the water is quite nice. Darcy, on the other hand, refuses to get anywhere near the surf and spray of the water, claiming the 10C water is far too cold; to Helblindi, it feels like a nice relaxing bath. "I can get you another one! Come out, already, you're going to catch your death of frostbite."

Helblindi snorts, wading waist deep into the ocean, searching for the necklace Darcy had bought for him, searching with his toes for the sleek metal clasp that had taken it upon itself to shatter at the slightest provocation. He is so far unsuccessful, his feet meeting the solid comfort of wet sand, the sharp coldness of seashells, the slimy wet of kelp.

"It's just a necklace!" Darcy shouts from the shore, and Helblindi reluctantly turns to march his footsteps back towards her.

"Why is it so important to you?" Darcy pouts, rubbing her hands together to warm them up, blowing on them with lips that are turning blue at the edges. Helblindi wants to reach out, rub her hands together with his own, but his own hands are probably colder than hers at the present moment. "It was just a cheap necklace, and it irritated your skin. Look, you still have the rash," she says, reaching up to rub at his neck where the silver had rubbed against his skin; her hands feel blessedly warm against his skin. "You're freezing."

"It's important to me," Helblindi says as he towels himself off, reaches for his clothes. "Because you got it for me, and I shouldn't have lost it."

He doesn't see her blush.

When he turns back around to her, her lips are no longer blue at the edges, and she tosses a strand of kelp at him. A bulb lands smack in the middle of his throat as the seaweed wraps itself around his shoulders. Darcy laughs.

"There, I gave that to you, too, so are you going to keep it?" she asks, teasing.

Helblindi smiles a bit, reaches behind himself to knot the seaweed together, arranges it so the bulbs dance across his collarbones.

"Yes, of course," he says, teasing back and grinning as he walks over to wrap an arm around her.

* * *

Later that night, after Darcy falls asleep with a half drunk mug of hot chocolate on her nightstand, Helblindi reaches behind himself, unties the knot of seaweed, and places the strand of kelp in his nightstand drawer carefully.

Darcy snuggles up to his thigh, mumbling something about cold and winter, and Helblindi smiles and ruffles a hand through her hair.


	75. Defenestrate

Written to: West Coast Friendship - Owl City, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Defenestrate: **To throw someone or something out of the window._

Mealtimes were always a struggle for Loki. Sleipnir was easy enough, he just grazed outside in the pastures with the other horses, none of which seemed to mind the fact that he had four extra legs. In fact, if anyone were to ask exactly what the other horses thought of Sleipnir and his extra appendages, not a single one of them would reply because they were horses and did not concern themselves with such trivial matters as number of legs.

Jörmungandr and Modi were different stories, however.

Jory was partial to little scraps of meat and peas. Modi despised peas. Absolutely despised them.

"You really must eat vegetables, green things, like peas," Loki pleads, holding out a little plastic spoon of peas and mashed potatoes for Modi. Modi sniffs at the offering, licks all around the spoon, lapping up the creamy potatoes and leaving the peas to roll off the spoon onto his tray table, bouncing onto the floor.

"Don't eat those, they're dirty," Loki says, catching Jory by the neck just as the little snake is about to dive off the table after the peas. "I'll get you some more."

Thor sits down beside Loki, a giant ham in front of him. "Hello, loves," he says joyfully. Jory launches himself at the ham, embeds his fangs deep inside the meat, and Thor pries him loose cheerfully, setting him back down on the table.

"Here," Loki says in frustration, pushing the bowl of mashed potatoes and peas towards Thor. "You feed him. He does not want to eat."

Thor moves over to where Modi is sitting, holds aloft a heaping spoon of potatoes and peas.

"No, no, no, you big oaf," Loki says, taking the spoon from him and tapping half of it back into the bowl. "That's far too much, he'll choke."

Thor rolls his eyes, presents the significantly smaller spoonful of food for Modi's inspection. Modi turns his nose up at it.

"Aaaahhh, say aaahhh," Thor says, holding the spoon and making noises like an Æsir battleship. Modi is not amused.

Thor gives a little shrug, sets the bowl and spoon in front of Modi, and turns back to his ham. Modi looks at his bowl, takes up the spoon clumsily, and licks at the mashed potatoes, spitting out the peas as he goes along. Soon enough, there aren't any more potatoes in his bowl, and he pouts at it while Jory watches the fat pink thing reject the best part of his meal.

Unfortunately, Jory and Modi aren't on the same page; the instant Thor's back is turned, Modi picks up his bowl, launches it with an arm Thor would be proud of towards the window. At this exact same instant, Jory darts towards the bowl, hooks himself inside the rim, and dives headfirst into the delightful peas, making not even a sound as he and the bowl are tossed unceremoniously through the window, landing in a soft patch of grass beneath the windowsill a few moments later.

Loki returns to the table with a plate of food for himself, looks suspiciously at Modi, who just smiles sweetly at him. Jory is nowhere to be seen.

"Where's your brother?" Loki asks Modi, examining him closely, even making him open his mouth to inspect inside. "Have you finished all your peas?"

Modi nods, stuffing his fist in his mouth in gleeful triumph. Loki, much too preoccupied with trying to find Jory, doesn't detect the lie, and instead pats Modi on the head and tells him he shall fetch him some chocolate pudding.


	76. Apricate

Written to: Come On, Get Higher - Matt Nathanson, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Apricate: **To bask in the sun._

Frigga smiles down at her two little charges as she spreads out a blanket on the soft grass, sets a picnic basket down on top of it. Modi clings to her long skirt, his thumb stuck firmly in his mouth as he looks out over the rolling hills of Asgard. Jory, from his perch atop Modi's head, looks down at the domain and flicks his tongue in distaste. It is far too colourful and bright and cheerful for the little snake's tastes.

"What do you think, little princes?" Frigga asks the two of them. "Do you like what you see? One day this will be yours. Not for a very long time, of course," she says, straightening up and watching Thor weaving dandelions into Loki's hair a few yards away. "The big princes have their turn first."

"Of course," Frigga says, laughing behind her hand, "you might have your turn sooner than you think, if your mama and papa drive each other crazy before too long." Thor has accidentally gotten Loki's hair tangled in Mjolnir's bindings, and is desperately trying to extricate the shaft as quickly as possible without Loki noticing.

"But you don't like ruling very much, do you?" Frigga asks her two little grandsons. Jory is curled around Modi's wrist, flicking at the air contentedly, and Modi has already crawled over to the centre of the blanket and has begun rooting through the picnic basket, tossing sandwiches and hams onto the side. Frigga picks them up and packs them back into the basket. "Oh, no, you two just want to have fun and play in the fields all day long. That's what little princes like to do, don't they?"

Modi finds what he is looking for, a little bowl of grapes, and sits down on a corner of the blanket, plucking grapes off the bunch and stuffing them in his mouth. He turns to look at Frigga, his cheeks bulging with fruit, and gives her a little smile, showing off his brand new front teeth. Frigga smiles, reaches over and pinches his cheek.

"Ba?" Modi asks, holding a grape out to Jory. "Ba?"

Jory is completely uninterested in the grape Modi is offering him, and ignores him, turning his head towards the afternoon sun.

"Oh, that's nice, you're sharing," Frigga says, laughing. "Good rulers must learn to compromise as well, that's very good that you can share."

She takes this statement back a few moments later, as Modi shoves the grape into Jory's mouth and the little snake hisses at him, a circular lump visible right under his head. Jory slithers over to Frigga's ankle, coils himself around it, and snuggles his head down into the coils of his body as he settles down for an afternoon nap.


	77. Susurrus

_**Susurrus: **A low soft sound, as of whispering or muttering or a quiet wind; a whisper or a rustling._

Loki wakes up in the middle of the night to a little tug on his hand, and a rustling, sniffling noise beside him. He opens his eyes - Thor is still snoring loudly away beside him, an arm thrown over Loki's waist - to see Modi standing by the side of his bed, pulling at his hand.

"What is it, little one?" Loki asks quietly, so as not to wake up Thor. Modi looks up at him with huge teary eyes, a stuffed teddy bear dangling from one hand. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Uh, uh!" Modi says. Clearly the child, like Thor, also has no idea how to control the volume of his voice, and Thor snuffles in his sleep beside Loki, rolling over and molding himself around Loki's back. Loki rolls his eyes, shoves Thor's arm aside to allow for easier breathing. Modi holds his hands up to Loki, asking to be picked up.

"How did you get out of your crib?" Loki wants to know as he obliges, picking Modi up and placing him in the little hollow of space that Thor has so graciously left between them. "Although I guess it doesn't matter, since you seem to clearly have gotten yourself here safe and sound. Did Jory help you?"

Modi rolls over, presses his face into Thor's chest, and falls asleep almost instantly.

Loki smiles, watching Thor's and Modi's blonde forms press into each other in their sleep, Thor curling himself protectively, instinctively around his son. He scoots over, gently tucks his head over Modi's blonde curls, and falls asleep with the soft scent of baby in his nose.


	78. Antephialtic

Written to: Red Lights - Tiësto, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Antephialtic: **Something that protects against nightmares. _

"Future kings must be brave," Thor tells Modi firmly the morning after, when he wakes up to find Modi snuggled up against his chest and a smattering of bruises against his ribs from where Modi has kicked him in his sleep. "Also, future kings would do well not to kick their parents."

Modi babbles unintelligibly up at him, hugs his teddy bear closer to his chest.

"It does not appear that your stuffed animal the Man of Iron has given you is very effective at protecting you," Thor muses, stroking his son's blonde curls in thought. "But perhaps that is because Midgard does not have an abundance of fierce creatures as the other realms have, and so have grown lax in their protective charms and items." Anthony had looked at him oddly when Thor had brought no less than twelve stuffed and dried Chitauri hearts looped in a chain and hung it above his and Pepper's bedroom door, even though Thor had told him it was to ensure the baby's safe arrival and further protection after it was born. Tony had taken it down immediately after Thor had left.

Thor squints his eyes, trying to remember how to make any little charms for Modi. As he absentmindedly twirls one of Modi's blonde curls around his finger, he comes upon an answer that he thinks might help.

"I suppose there is one simple thing we could do," Thor says. "I will be back promptly, small one. Do not kick your mother, he is still sleeping and is not wont to amuse you at the present time."

Thor returns to find that Modi has kicked Loki awake.

"I was going to make a protective bangle for him," Thor explains. "I told him not to kick you, but it appears that he is not fond of listening."

Loki grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Of course he does not listen, he is very much like you. Clearly you do not remember the times as children when we slept over in the same bed and you would kick me out because you were pretending to be a horse in your dreams."

Thor firmly remembers none of this, and tells Loki so. Loki just rolls his eyes and sits up.

"What protection did you have in mind?" Loki asks, eyeing the knife Thor holds in his hands.

"Just a simple one," Thor explains. "A braided bracelet. There is something regarding parents' hair, and love, and some of that stuff. It is not my area of expertise, but I remember my mother had one for me when I was still but a babe."

Loki scoffs. "And you remember this? It is truly fascinating, how you can remember things that happened thousands and thousands of years ago but fail to remember what foodstuffs to pick up at the Midgardian grocery stores when I ask you to go."

Thor ignores him, lifts the knife up to his head, and carefully cuts off a blonde curl. He hands the knife to Loki, who rolls his eyes but obligingly takes it, snipping off a long dark strand, which he hands to Thor.

Thor braids the black and golden hair together, looping it in a small circle around Modi's wrist. Modi tugs at the bracelet curiously, his teddy bear momentarily forgotten on the bed.

"You will not have nightmares," Thor determines, smiling proudly at his son. "It is some magic that I do not know, but it is rather effective."

* * *

Modi sleeps throughout the night soundly, not even a peep coming from the nursery, but Loki still wakes up with a bruise on his ribs from when Thor smacked him in his sleep, with dreams of winning a round in the Prizefighter series.


	79. Logastellus

_**Logastellus**: A person whose love of words is greater than their knowledge of words._

Fortunately for Loki, Modi seems to have inherited not only his mischievous nature, but also his ability to sit still in the cradle of Loki's lap and read a book. Or, at the very least, pretend to read, which is far more than Loki can say about Thor.

Before Modi is ten months old, he has already begun to trace the curves of the letters and runes and inscriptions on the onionskin pages in Loki's lap with the tip of his finger, and Loki smiles indulgently, presses kisses into Modi's blonde curls, and allows his son extra time on each page, even if Modi's fingers are sticky with jam and he smears purple across the paragraphs.

"Here," Loki says one day, opening a thick book on his lap and patting his knees for Modi to climb in. "There's a character in this story that likes potatoes very much." At the mention of the spud, Modi's face brightens and he climbs obligingly into Loki's lap, snuggling back into Loki's stomach as Loki begins to read The Lord of the Rings to him, in a soft, melodious tone.

Thor, grudgingly curious about this Frodo fellow (it sounded suspiciously like the name of a great warrior in another Midgardian series Loki was currently obsessed with - Thor would later learn that Loki had been talking about Drogo, not Frodo), stands hidden behind the nursery door and listens in.

Loki, looking over, sees Thor's hulking silhouette in the doorway, smiles, and reads just a bit louder for his benefit.


	80. Anomia

Other words from Google Translate: English - Swedish, apologies if any of this is incorrect, I have no knowledge of the Swedish language whatsoever.

Written to: Collide - Leona Lewis/Avicii, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Anomia: **The inability to recall the names of people or things. _

"What are these called again?" Darcy asks Helblindi as she weaves a strand of daisies through his blue-black hair. "Two cents something or other?"

Helblindi scoffs, reaches blindly over his head and takes a daisy from her, examining its soft white petals.

"Tusensköna," he says after a while, handing it back to her. She takes it and knots its stem neatly with the next one.

"What language is that?" she asks. "It sounds like Norwegian, or Danish, or something."

"It could be," Helblindi muses. "The native tongue of Jotunheimr supposedly has influenced many of the Scandinavian languages. It is not a very fun language to learn, if that is what you are interested in attempting to do. Just the wrong tone could go from calling someone very lovely to calling someone's mother something I would rather not say."

"Oh, and heaven forbid I insult your mother," Darcy says, laughing as she leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. The playful calls of children on picnics, tossing frisbees around them in Central Park surround them, and not for the first time Helblindi wonders what it would be like to have a child of his own. Loki, as many children as he has, of all shapes and sizes, seems to be no more or less content than anyone else, although Helblindi has seen a deep-hidden joy in his youngest brother's eyes whenever he is holding Modi.

"She is a very nice woman, yes," Helblindi says, looking at Darcy upside down from where his head is cradled in her lap. "She likes you very much."

Darcy is silent for a few moments, and Helblindi wants to ask her what she is thinking about.

"What is this called?" she asks, staying very still, and Helblindi cranes his neck to see a bright orange butterfly has landed on her shoulder, its wings fluttering delicately.

"Monark fjäril," he says, lifting out a hand slowly, very slowly, so as not to startle the creature. The butterfly seems to eye him for a second, deciding, before tentatively stepping out onto his index finger. "I have told you these before," he tells Darcy, and smiles as she blushes.

"I forgot," she admits. "Or, it's not so much I forgot as that I like hearing you say their names."

The butterfly flaps away, in search of flowers, as Helblindi sits up and cups Darcy's face in his hands.

"Do you remember what this is called?" he asks, his mouth hovering over hers; she can taste the mint and cold on his breath. "Us?"

Darcy has no idea, answers the best way she knows how, tilting her head up just a fraction and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

Helblindi pulls away after a few moments, laughing.

"You cheated," he accuses her playfully. "You don't remember at all." He tickles her, and she laughs as she falls back into the grass.

He leans down, presses a kiss to her forehead. "I suppose I will have to let it slide," he muses, "because you are min skatt," - a kiss to the space between her eyebrows - "min kärlek," - a kiss to her left cheekbone - "my darling," a kiss to her mouth.

When he lets her up, Darcy smiles, blushing, and just swats him on the arm and tells him he's been watching too many Jane Austen movies.


	81. Lalochezia

Written to: The Bare Necessities - The Jungle Book OST (Disney), crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Lalochezia: **The emotional relief gained from using abusive or profane language._

Even though Loki has dozens, hundreds, thousands of languages at his disposal, Thor would like to believe that he knows only the useful words in any given language. Namely, curse words and insults, with the occasional phrase, such as "Where is the bathroom?" or "Another!" or "Please feed me." Thor, all in all, was quite proud of his grasp of languages.

"You really ought not to swear in front of our son," Loki informs Thor one afternoon, as Thor is using Mjolnir to hammer together a new play structure for Modi. He had been careless, and Mjolnir - just the slightest bit insulted at being used like a common hammer - had banged him right on the thumb. Thor had muttered several colourful choice words that would have made even the most seasoned sailor proud. "Where did you learn all of these words, anyway?"

Thor pops his thumb into his mouth, trying to suck away the hurt, and he could swear Mjolnir was cackling to herself from her position on the floor. Modi wriggles out of Loki's lap, toddles over to Mjolnir, and sits down beside her, patting at her head and glaring accusingly at his papa, as if the accident in question had been all his fault. Which, of course it was, but Thor was better off not admitting that to anyone.

"I...am not actually sure," Thor admits, looking at Loki. "I've visited Midgard many times."

"And clearly you have not made friends with the choicest company," Loki sniffs, examining his hands and producing a nail file from his inner robes. "You barbarian."

"I will have you know that Bluebeard was a fine fellow, a graceful warrior," Thor says, and Loki just sighs, rolls his eyes, and goes back to filing his nails.


	82. Eutony

Written to: The Name of Life - Spirited Away OST, crosspost from AO3

* * *

_**Eutony:** The pleasantness of a word's sound._

"You barbarian," Loki hisses through gritted teeth as Thor pins him to the mattress, holds his flailing wrists down in one firm hand. "Would it be so difficult for you to actually, you know, just carry me over and deposit me gently onto the bed?"

"Far too difficult," Thor agrees as he mouths kisses into the side of Loki's neck, and Loki tries - and fails - to swallow his moans, the little pinpricks of pain and heat wending a slow burning trail down his spine to settle and smolder in the junction of his thighs.

"Must you treat me like the spoils of war?" Loki asks, pressing a hand over Thor's mouth as Thor hovers over him, aching for a kiss. "Surely there must be something to be said for gentle treatment."

Thor pauses for a moment, and Loki shivers at the heated gaze in his blue eyes, at the warm puffs of breath against his palm.

"I always feel like we go too fast, burning ourselves out like raging wildfires before we can get started. Surely it would not hurt to be embers for a while, and glow smoothly, softly?" Loki asks, removing his hand and letting it fall limp on the bed beside him. "What is the rush?"

Thor eyes him for a moment. "I suppose," he says after a very long while, "it is because I adore you far too much. And if you were to disappear the next moment, I want to have as many memories with you as I can. How can you make the most of time if you move sluggishly through life? And I treat you like treasure because that is exactly what you are, to me."

Loki laughs, softly, presses a kiss to the back of Thor's hand. "We will live forever," he says, with a little smile. "But that is quite possibly the smartest thing I have ever heard you say."

* * *

Loki sighs, his spine arching in a slow burn of pleasure as Thor rocks into him from behind, deep, smooth, slow thrusts that drag against Loki's insides and send shudders through his entire body. He groans, the sound lost somewhere between his vocal cords and his mouth, and he can feel Thor's mouth against the back of his neck, allows Thor to press thick fingers into his mouth and scoop out all the strangled noises, flattening them out into the air into perfect music.

"Loki," Thor murmurs gently against the hollow of Loki's shoulder blades. "Loki."

Loki revels in the sound of his name, can taste the curve of Thor's mouth shaping itself to form the O, can hear the thickness of a moan creeping up into Thor's deep voice, only revealing itself in the hard sound of the K, can touch forever and always and eternity in the drag of the I. He blindly reaches down, entwines his fingers with Thor's free hand, and squeezes.

Thor clutches back, and suddenly Loki is already far too close, closer than he realised, is suddenly already too far gone as Thor's thumb rubs at the base of Loki's own, surprises both himself and Thor as he suddenly clenches down around him, spilling a choked sob into Thor's palm.

As he begins to come down, fuzzy, hazy, he feels Thor speed up, his thrusts roughening, quickening. And because Loki is exhausted beyond his own expectations, because Thor has been so patient, he allows it, allows Thor to make the most of their eternity together.

Whispers Thor's name, barely audible, his tongue thick so the Th comes out almost like an S, the O a slow drawl as Thor bites a kiss into his shoulder, the R barely a breath, barely a whimper as Thor clutches at Loki's fingers between his own and comes.


End file.
